Voices in the Snow (Black Winter, #1)

by Darcy Coates

The house, despite being caked in opulence, felt hostile, as though she were unworthy of staying in it. As if it barely tolerated her. The judgement seeped out of the walls and rose through the floorboards. It bled resentment.

She felt like she was unravelling. Her mind was fracturing, the pieces floating away, and as fast as she tried to grasp them and pull them back in, more were lost.

“Good people can make a bad situation bearable,”

And he was kind, not in the way that expected anything in return and not that he was even trying to be kind. He just was

Human. Inhuman. Where do we draw the line? How much mercy can we show without bartering our own lives?