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Chapter Twenty-three - Sister

Nyxen sat across from Declan. Just sitting there. Watching him. In his stupid all black outfit with crisp edges and sharp eyes like knives to match. Knee crossed over the other, hands on his free knee.

Declan glared at him from his chair, arms crossed tightly and hunching backwards. He didn't have to say anything. He didn't even have to scratch the burn marks on his skin though he damn well wanted to. But he wouldn't give Nyxen the satisfaction of giving in to the stare-off and moving first. Or speaking.

Eventually Nyxen broke the silence. "So, what was it this time?"

"I don't know," Declan retorted. "Isn't it your job to figure it out?"

"And do something about it." Nyxen looked at him. "You finding out and recognizing is part of that."

"Ew." He scratched at a scab, wincing as it stung. Which entirely wasn't fair. Stupid skin.

"That's one way to phrase it," Nyxen commented, apparently unphased by whatever Declan did. Always. It was infuriating. The man was infuriating. Declan didn't h
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