The cunning bastards have set the brush on fire behind us. Each had been rimmed with a thin iron strip. And he’s less without Jonas. ”Still holding his own gun out in his left hand, he went for the one tucked in the waistband of his jeans—
”Now, however, the two of them only looked at their absent, roaring friend, paralyzed with fright. It turned and fled for Rhea’s bedroom, its split tail lashing. Or afternoon, if it’s that. It flared up, painting highlights on Roland’s cheeks, brushing crescents of shadow beneath his brows and below his lower lip.
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