"The grief in her green eyes slips then hardens and, for an instant, Pendleton sees the woman she has become and has no right being, not at sixteen."

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He shook his head. “No. Because there's no one else out there who understands you like I do.” I waited for more. “That's it? You're not going to elaborate on what that means?” Those green eyes held me. “I don't think I need to.

— Richelle Mead