Our Dark Duet (Monsters of Verity, #2)

by Victoria Schwab

Because she knew a secret: there were two kinds of monsters, the kind that hunted the streets and the kind that lived in your head. She could fight the first, but the second was more dangerous. It was always, always, always a step ahead. It didn’t have teeth or claws, didn’t feed on flesh or blood or hearts. It simply reminded you of what happened when you let people in.

“We do it, Jackson, because compassion must be louder than pride.”

Denial—that’s what it was called. The idea that if a thing went unsaid, it didn’t really exist, because words had power, words gave weight and shape and force, and the withholding of them could keep a thing from being real, could . . .

People were messy. They were defined not only by what they’d done, but by what they would have done, under different circumstances, molded as much by their regrets as their actions, choices they stood by and those they wished they could undo. Of course, there was no going back—time only moved forward—but people could change. For worse. And for better.

This book nearly killed me. I always say that, but I swear, this time I mean it. It’s not a sign I didn’t love the work—after all, books can’t hurt you unless you care about them. That’s how they get in—through the cracks that caring makes in us. This book nearly killed me because I cared. I cared so much about Kate and August, and telling their story. I knew from the start it wouldn’t be a happy one. Hopeful, yes, but in a world with places like Verity, even hopeful endings come at a cost. This book cost me something, but it didn’t kill me, because of those I had at my side.