Finn raised his coffee öug to me. "That's my girl. A bitch to the bitter end."
I saluted him with my sadwich. "Always

I embraced that hope for a moment, grabbed onto it with both hands, and held it close like the rare treasure it was. Then I let go of it, let it float away like a butterfly on a bright day, because the darkest part of the night was yet to come, and there was no place for it here.

For a moment, I almost felt sorry for her. Then the bitch blasted me with her water magic, and I got over it.

This is really good,” Donovan Caine said, attacking his third strawberry pancake. “You sound surprised,” I said. He shrugged. “I just didn’t think an assassin would be able to cook like this.” “Well, I do get lots of practice with knives. You could say I’m multitasking.” The detective froze, his fork halfway to his mouth. “I’m kidding. I enjoy cooking. It relaxes me.

Always take the most unexpected route

Breaking into the building was easy.
Too easy for an assassin like me.