Psycho Devils (Cruel Shifterverse, #5)

by Jasmine Mas

Each day last week I’d woken up and said my morning affirmation: “I am the victim.”

I’d tipped off a post into open air with a pipe between my lips and Horse by my side, and the free fall had felt like exquisite freedom. I smiled. Oops. I was missing three teeth. Sometimes I was cool as shit.

My new aesthetic was cozy, drug-dependent swamp monster. Not to brag, but I nailed the look.

He stared at me with a sad expression, and I could tell he was trying silently to tell me he cared. I telepathically told him I wished I were adopted. Personally, I was doing a good enough job ruining my life without a father speeding up the process.

Last time I took a man seriously, I lost my will to live.

I picked at my lip, made a small ball out of the pile of dried skin, and put it in my pocket. You never know when you might need to make some money.