Gleam (The Plated Prisoner, #3)

by Raven Kennedy

I fall asleep listening to the constant thrum of our chests, to the two mismatched tunes that will never play in harmony. I let that girl in me break away beat by beat, saying goodbye in her own silent way. When I wake up, I’ll make sure my heart is hardened. Come morning, I’ll make sure it only plays a song for me.

Welcome, Auren

I have hated, resented, and been ashamed of myself for long enough. I don’t want to harbor thoughts like that anymore.

Anger, I realize, tastes like a sugared flame.

“Either do it or don’t. Makes no difference to me,” she says matter-of-factly. “Though, it seems to me that trying and failing is better than giving up.”

Men ruin all of women’s best laid plans.

You said something smart, Malina

We tell ourselves twisted lies to tangle around our wicked truths, all so that we can get caught up in the bind and not have to face bare regrets.

“You caught me,” I say,

“I’ll do that anytime you need catching, Goldfinch.”

“My own good?”

“My own good was stuck on a pirate ship, with an aura like a beacon that flared across the Barrens,” he grits out, a thick spun voice meant to tie knots around me. “My own good was cowering before men who were nothing—fucking nothing—in comparison to her.”

“My own good hated me, fought me, argued with me, but I didn’t care, because I watched her slowly come out of her shell, peeling back one layer at a time, and it was stunning.”

“I’m saying that you are my own good. And for you, I gave you a choice, but you chose him.”