There Are No Saints (Sinners, #1)

by Sophie Lark

It’s all the same people, the same ass-kissing conversation. I’m so fucking bored.

I don’t kill women, typically. This is not out of any petty moral constraint. It’s just too fucking easy.

I’m probably recovering faster than most people. I’m used to getting over things that really fucking suck.

I survived. In a sense, I stole these silver rings from him, because he thought they’d adorn my corpse.

Cole offered no sympathy. He also offered no excuses. No fucking platitudes. No lies.