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I grabbed Sierra’s wrist, my fingers closing around it with a sudden, bruising force.

Zayne’s POV

The pulsating beat of the Academy’s illicit late-night party thumped through the stone walls of my dorm, a hollow thrum against the frantic rhythm of my own heart. The air in my room was thick with the scent of cheap perfume, stale alcohol, and the cloying sweetness of desperation. But ...