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560 pages, Kindle Edition
First published May 31, 2022








Oh, may a wheelbarrow of small monkeys fuck it.
“You don’t get much say in the way you die, but you can choose how you handle it.” My father’s voice came back to me. “Always hold yourself with honor. Especially in death.”
Men never understood a woman’s strength, the carnage which would paint the world when she broke.
Sötét démonom. I was his dark demon.
“Warwick ruined me. Broke and demolished what was left of me. Like a wave, all I could do was continue to smash myself against the rocks, battering and bruising, but never stopping.”
“Before you, nothing I ate had any taste.” His mouth almost grazed mine. “All I could smell was death. Nothing but killing made me feel anything. Then you walked into my life.” His hand slid under my jaw. “And I don’t see just gray. I feel, smell, taste, and want to fuck you in every color.”
“People considered “breaking” a sign of weakness. I disagreed. Bending meant you could be molded and shaped into something else. I may be full of dents, scars, and trauma, but whatever they did to me, they could not bend and form me into their idea. They turned me rigid. Titanium. I broke; I did not bend. I snapped; I did not bow. They did not twist and cast me into something different. My broken pieces could be forged together. Made stronger.”
