Glint (The Plated Prisoner, #2)

by Raven Kennedy

But no matter how long I stood there on the pedestal for them to look, no one really saw me. If they did, they’d know I’m just a girl with jagged rips and pitted holes inside of her, with golden skin hiding a broken heart.

Are people so content in ignorance that they’ll believe every lie fed to them, despite what they see right in front of their eyes? Then again, perhaps it isn’t ignorance. Maybe it’s just...fear. They don’t want to even consider the alternative. It would make people uneasy, make it hard to sleep at night.

Plotting is what I’m best at. A good thing too, since I lack both of the traits that this world respects: power and a penis. A shame that I lack the first, but the second? I’ve found that most of the people who have those are altogether disappointing.

I’ve been bending over backwards for so long that I forgot I even had a spine.