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CHAPTER EIGHTY-SIX

Raquel Whittle is a cocroach I want to squash under the sole of my sneakers. My hand has never itched so much to stab someone like I want to stab her.

I managed to pull myself together when we got to the safe house, but Phoebe could see I was crying, and she hugged me.

Lo and behold, Miss Whittle started bawling her eyes out, saying how much she loved Dario's parents and how much they mean to her.

Why the fuck did Alessandro think it would be a good idea for the two of us to stay in the same house together?

Why is she even part of the people that he wants to keep safe. She's disposable to Dario.

"Don't worry." Phoebe rubs my back as she looks from the murderous expression on my face to the blonde witch. "I snagged us the room furthest from theirs."

Maybe I should go there and lock myself up until this whole nightmare is over. Until Alessandro keeps his promise and gets back to me.

"I need vodka and a cigarette." I growl, and Phoebe's eyes widen, traveling to my very flat stomac
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