Twisted Hate (Twisted, #3)

by Ana Huang

Adrenaline rushes were crazy things. They made you stronger, more focused. They made you feel invincible. But once the high disappeared and you crashed back to earth, you had to deal with the aftermath—the shaky hands, the weak legs, the worries you’d staved off for a brief moment in time only to all come rushing back in one giant flood.

I thrived on chaos.

the people I saved—and couldn’t save—in the emergency room, Death and I were old acquaintances. I hated the bastard, and every time I survived one of my escapades, it was a metaphorical fuck you to the reaper.

Our first impressions stick with us the longest, but contrary to popular opinion, some people do change. The only problem is, they change faster than our prejudices do.

but there was no push greater than the need to distract from a broken heart.