“You’re ours now, Miss America. Branded, bought and sold. Butcher might put a ring on you tomorrow, but I’ll always be your watcher, the one who keeps an eye on every move you make at every minute of the day. And if you think I don’t see the plan to run away swirling in your pretty onyx eyes, you’re so very fucking wrong, darlin’. There’s a treaty to uphold and I take that as serious as a chip butty on a Sunday, you get me?”
