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“Tell Manea if she wants the idol, she can get it from Seth.”
Pieces of the wreckage crumbled into the mud with a loud, grinding sound. The rumble of thunder had lessened, but the rain was still pounding down around us. I glared at Prescott, ignoring the three henchmen. I wanted him to acknowledge me, so I could drive off without having to look over my shoulder.
“This isn’t over.” His voice was surprisingly cool, given that he was slick with wet dirt and I’d almost blown him up.
I scoffed. “It never is.”
