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“I’ve learned no one has the answers to anything,” I say, picking the correct key on my second attempt. I twist the lock and push through the glass door, Ciro following close after me. “Life is just a game of guesswork. We’re all pretending we know what we’re doing. That we’re in control. But no one knows a goddamn thing.”
Not merely existing, but living, loudly and unapologetically.
“Glut is only a word,” Haven tells us, her bright emerald eyes shining into mine. “It only has meaning if we let it.”
Ending the life that gave me life.
But the desire to survive is a hard instinct to kill.
I know he’s still alive. Monsters don’t die that easily.
Blue, the color that’s supposed to represent stability and calm, is the hottest part of a flame, a color that I now see as a symbol of powerful wrath and destruction.
“We’re all failures,” I reassure him,
