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... ng. It felt like I’d been pricked by a thorn.
"Livia."
Leto grabbed my hand. He examined it and sighed.
"Your hand is a mess—mud, rain, and blood."
He was right. It was covered with cuts I hadn’t noticed before. My skin was particularly delicate.
The rain had turned into a downpour. It was so heavy it was hard to see anything. But I couldn’t turn back now.
"I’m fine."
I resumed searching through the bushes. My fingertips stung. The recent w ...
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