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"Okay. So, like, you're full on psycho. Cool, cool. I was joking about the crematorium thing. We actually have a funeral home on our bank roll. We just gotta get him into the hearse and drop him off. But, like, cool for having a Plan B—a terrifying Plan B. That just feels like a lot of work, man."
His eyes darkened. He slipped his hand lower until it was wrapped around my throat. "I’m a murderer," he growled. I arched my back. "So am I."
"I wasn't really fond of sleeping in the same room as Hale's ghost. It still smells like burnt asshole in there,"
shook my head. "I’m not comfortable there. All I can think about is the man I killed and Hale and all the fucking guards patrolling the grounds. I just need some normalcy, okay?" "Normal is boring," Anthony sang. "Killers don’t get normal," Malice echoed. "Fine. But when Grams is back, I’m moving back home. I’m serious. She can’t live alone, Anthony. I love spending time with you—" "So you admit you love me," he cut me off. "That’s not what I said." He tsked. "So you love me. Continue."
"Sometimes, a little fear is good for the soul." And then, he slammed the trunk shut.
She was like the Wish.com version of a Mafia boss.
"Time to eat. The penis pancakes are strictly for Juliet."
