The Gilded Cage (The Prison Healer, #2)

by Lynette Noni

“Sometimes the people who act like they don’t care are really the ones who care the most. They feel so much that it overwhelms them, and to keep from falling apart, they hide behind easy smiles and quick laughter, acting like nothing matters. It’s a defense mechanism, a way to protect themselves from the world. A way to keep from getting hurt.”

“Kiva has spent over half her life locked in a nightmare. The last thing I want is to make her feel like she’s trapped in another kind of cage, gilded though it might be. I have no idea what the future will bring for us, but right now she deserves the chance to live her life and follow her dreams. I can only hope she’ll grant me the honor of being by her side on that journey, and if she does, you’ll have to find a way to deal with it. I don’t think I can be any clearer than that.”

“I dream of darkness, I dream of death,” Jaren answered slowly. “I dream of you falling from that tower and me not catching you in time. I dream of you walking into the crematorium and never coming back out. I dream of—of—” He swallowed. “I dream of finding you at the bottom of the quarry, not breathing.” He shuddered against her. “I dream of you dying, over and over, while I just stand there, watching.”

“Normal is tedious, it’s boring. The best people are the ones with stories, the ones who have lived through things others can only imagine in their wildest dreams—and their worst nightmares.” She looked pointedly toward Kiva’s hand. “People like you.”

“I’m tired, Mouse. I’m tired of seeing good people suffer for a cause I’m not even sure I believe in. A cause I’m not sure I’ve ever believed in.”

“You say you became the darkness, that it consumed you,” he said, his cobalt eyes soft on hers, “but I call bull on that. I’ve never met anyone who shines as brightly as you do.”

“Best sleep I’ve ever had,” he said quietly. Kiva swallowed at the look that had returned to his eyes. She wanted to lie, but what came out was the absolute, undeniable truth. “Me too.”

“Our scars define us,” Maddis said quietly, the tip of her finger tracing the three slashed lines. “They tell a story of courage and survival. They tell of who we are at our deepest being, of the challenges we’ve faced and overcome.” Whispering now, she patted Kiva’s hand and finished, “Not all scars are as visible as this. I daresay you have many more on the inside. But never forget that every scar is beautiful. And you should never, ever, be ashamed of them.”