“Makes me sick how you’re playing the kids. Poor Lucy Gray. Poor lamb.” . . . and see her sinking her teeth into his hand. He thought about how coolly she’d killed in the arena. First that frail little Wovey; that was a cold-blooded move if he’d ever seen one. Then the calculated way she’d taken out Treech, baiting him to attack her, really, so she could whip that snake out of her pocket. And she claimed that Reaper had rabies, that it was a mercy kill, but who knew? No, Lucy Gray was no lamb. She was not made of sugar. She was a victor.
