Glint (The Plated Prisoner, #2)

by Raven Kennedy

Gold may gleam, but it doesn’t stand the test of time. It wears down, loses its luster, becomes nothing

but a needy, malleable surface with no durability.

I don’t know if the bones in my body are as gold as the rest of me, but for my sake, I hope they are. I hope my spine is gilded, because I’m going to need a strong backbone if I want to survive.

Time changes with torment. It stretches on, lengthening seconds, extending minutes. I’ve learned that pain and fear have a way of prolonging. And as if that weren’t cruel enough, our minds make

sure we relive those moments again and again and again, long after they’ve passed.

Every heartbreak I’ve endured in my life, every harrowing pain, it’s ripped a part of me away. I’ve felt every piece of myself that’s been torn off, seen each bit where it fell behind me in the path of my past like breadcrumbs, only to be snapped up by vicious birds of prey.

Because if I show him my fear, if I reveal my weaknesses to this male, he’ll latch onto those threads and yank them all, unraveling me completely.

“Kindness shouldn’t have to be earned. It should be freely given.”