Vicious (Villains, #1)

by V.E. Schwab

Anger flared through him, but anger was unproductive so he twisted it into pragmatism while he searched for a flaw.

Somewhere between the third and fourth tumbler, the question mark had become a period. There wasn’t a choice. Not really.

Now he was going numb, and that scared him more than pain because it meant he might just … fade. Fade right into death without noticing.

Pain and dark, which became pain and color, and then pain and glaring hospital lights.

Victor didn’t know what to say, so he said the most useless word in the world. “Sorry.”

The body was a machine, only necessary pieces, every component at every level, from muscle and bone down to chemical and cell, operating on action and reaction. To Victor it just made sense.

“There are no good men in this game,” said Mitch. But Sydney didn’t care about good. She wasn’t sure she believed in it. “I’m not afraid of Victor.” “I know.” He sounded sad when he said it.