and while we were distracted by the chaos of the explosion, they stole one of our most advanced bomber jets. Our? Confusion fogs my brain. I realize I’m thinking of myself as part of the Command. Their jet, I mean. My people stole their jet. But the lines are blurring. God, they’re blurring.
HOW the FUCK are the lines BLURRING?? How the FUCK do you see yourself as a part of the army who hunts and kills and enslaves your kind?? it's like the only fucking time she acknowledge the horror her kind is going through is during romance scenes with Cross to give her a struggle to check off the dumbass "enemies to lovers" trope this damn book was fucking written around
