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CHAPTER 8

I put off telling Tristan that I’ve assured his death just as I have mine for as long as possible. Maybe for too long. A commotion outside my window snags my attention on the second morning…the day we’re supposed to leave. My ears prick at the familiar sound of Tristan’s voice, his fox growling.

“Octavia!”

I flinch, moving toward the window. Throwing it open, I lean out, catching sight of my best friend trapped behind two of our guards. His face is bright red, green eyes smoldering. Beside him, two bags have been unceremoniously dumped onto the gravel.

“When were you going to tell me?” he demands, looking more furious than I’ve ever seen him.

“Um…right now?” I bite my lower lip. “How are your bags packed already?”

Tristan growls again, shoving the guards off him. They glance at me, only stepping back when I give a slight nod. Snatching up his bags, Tristan disappears inside. I hurry to my bedroom door, waiting. It doesn’t take him long. The door is thrown open, smacking again
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