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... because my body did it before my brain could argue. I didn’t turn back right away. I needed a second to steady myself, to make sure my voice wouldn’t crack when I spoke again.
"What," I said.
Zane didn’t answer immediately. I heard the soft scrape of wood, the unmistakable sound of a drawer opening. When I finally looked back, he was holding a stack of papers, thicker than anything I’d expected. He set them down on the desk between us, squared the edges with his palm, then slid ...
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