Year Two (Kingmakers, #2)

by Sophie Lark

Knowing you’re loved, truly loved, by at least one person makes all the difference in the world.

Satisfaction is the enemy of success. I’ll be proud of myself when I’ve got the whole damn world at my feet.

He looks like a child who’s had his lollipop snatched away.

“Remember,” he said, staring into my soul. “Every choice sets the table. Sooner or later, we all sit down to a banquet of consequences.”

There’s a coldness in me that doesn’t melt easily. Maybe because I’ve had to be so careful, so rigid, all my life. It’s hard for me to trust. Hard to open up.

“How many next times will there be?” “Infinite,” he says.

And if this deal’s no good, I’ll think of another. I told you, this is a jailbreak. Rocco is Warden Norton and you’re Andy Dufresne—we’re gonna Shawshank this motherfucker!”

I can’t fly without her, or I’ll crash and burn, I know it.

And I fucking love her. That’s the most important part of all. I like her, I love her, I admire her, I adore her. I’m not abandoning her to Rocco’s torment. She doesn’t deserve that. I don’t care what it costs to save her, or what I have to risk.

One thing I know for certain: no man on this planet ever accomplished a goddamn thing without believing he could.

“The truth shall set you free,”