Robin

“Kid, when will you learn.”

“You’d be amazed the things I know.”

“You might be able thrash your way out of a spider-web, but thrashing in quicksand doesn’t work. The harder you fight, the more ground you lose. Struggling merely expedites your inevitable defeat.”

“Never been defeated. Never will be.”

“Rowena was a spider web.” He touches my cheek with the hand holding the knife. The silver glints an inch from my eye. “Do you know what I am.”

“A great big pain in my ass.”

“Quicksand. And you’re dancing on it.”

“Dude, what’s with the knife?”

“I’m not interested in ink anymore. You’re going to sign my contract in blood.”

“Thought you said it was an application,” I say pissily.

“It is, Dani. To a very exclusive club. What’s Mine.”

“Ain’t nobody’s. “

“Sign.”

“You can’t—“

“Or Jo dies. Slowly and painfully.”

“Dude, why you still talking? Unchain me and give me the fecking contract already.”
― Karen Marie Moning, Iced