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Summary
He tipped his shot. “To drink against me,” he said with that careful flatness she’d already taken plenty note of, “would only be insane.” His mismatched eyes came back up to hers, and there was a glimmer of humor that lived at the bottom of the very deep well of pain that he was made of. “But go ahead.” He let the words settle. “Drink with the living dead.”
Series
- Part 7 of Deadlock Fiction