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Kindle Notes & Highlights
“My story belongs to you, Savannah. My confession is yours and yours alone.”
“You’re mine. Make no fucking mistake.
“If you let him touch you, I won’t be held responsible for what happens next. I already have a death sentence hanging over my head, and they can’t kill me twice.”
“Touch him, and he dies. The choice is yours. Unless”—a breathy chuckle whispers across my lips—“you want me to kill him. Trust me, baby. It’ll be my pleasure.”
I’ve killed for less. She should realize that.
Morally gray is not a word in our dictionary. Black is our color. Black is our song. Black is his love note to me.
