One by One

by Ruth Ware

Who is this woman? Why are they so keen to keep her happy? It’s almost like… I frown, wondering. It’s almost like they’re afraid of her. But that’s absurd.

Could one of those sleek, monied hipsters downstairs really have murdered someone?

Because here is the thing. We think we know owls. They are the soft, friendly, blinking creatures of children’s rhymes and stories. They may be wise, but they are also slow, and easily confused. The problem is, none of that is true. Owls are not slow. They are fast—lightning fast. And they are not confused. In their own element—the dark—they are swift and merciless hunters. Owls are raptors. Predators.

“Entitled, entitled, fucking entitled!” Topher shouted over her. “I am so bloody sick of that word! It’s become a fucking stick to beat white men with. Do you know what entitled actually means, Tiger? It means you deserve something, that you are legally due it, for whatever reason. Think about that next time you talk about someone being entitled.”