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                                        Chapter 15: "This isn’t you Aria,"
                                
                                                                                        
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                                        Chapter 17: Liability.
                                
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... e always did—hips carving a challenge into the air, heels cracking like gunshots. The room still reeked of her: defiance and violence. Aria.
Every muscle in my body locked. Don't follow. Don't fucking move. But my hands trembled. My pulse roared in my ears, feral, hungry. She'd left a goddamn handkerchief on the chair.
A scrap of fabric, crumpled like the aftermath of a fight. Or a bed. Another object to leave a mark, almost intentional—like a bait. Something I would blindly take ...
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