“Rose Hathaway, notorious rebel, showing her maternal side.”
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. “Oh, this I’ve got to see, comrade. Dimitri Belikov, badass god, installing a baby’s car seat.”
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“I don’t even know her, and I hate her already,” remarked Rose. I glanced at the time. “Let’s hope we can find her so you can tell her in person. It’s time to go.”
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“My wife, ladies and gentlemen. Beauty, brains, and now brawn.”
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“They really are amazing, aren’t they?” he mused, admiring Declan as he slept in my arms. “Someone so small . . . who will have such enormous potential. Good, evil. Great acts, small acts. What will it be? What will he become?”
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That left Dimitri and me to babysit, which seemed like the setup for some sort of wacky sitcom.
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“Well, welcome to the family then, Sydney. At least this way I’m not the most scandalous anymore.”
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“But who am I to judge? We’re all fighting our own battles, the best way we can.”
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“He’s an animal,” growled Dimitri. “He has no business being here.” “Well, I suppose it—” I stopped and reconsidered Dimitri’s words. “Do you know him or something?” Dimitri eyed me. “Yes. Do you?” “Yeah,” I said. “He’s my uncle. Rand Ivashkov.” “Oh?” Dimitri’s hardened expression didn’t change. “He’s my father.”