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... y quieter than the ride to The Obsidian, but the silence was far from empty. It was thick, heavy with the lingering taste of whiskey and the phantom sensation of Damien’s lips against hers.

Aria sat as far away as possible on the leather bench, her knees pressed together and her hands folded tightly in her lap. She kept her gaze fixed out the window, watching the city lights blur into streaks of neon. Behind the glass, she saw her own reflection—flushed cheeks, swollen lips, and eyes tha ...

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