You're getting into some kind of shape, cop." Aw, come on, now." Butch grinned. "Don't let that shower we took go to your head." Rhage fired a towel at the male. "Just pointing out your beer gut's gone." It was a Scotch pot. And I don't miss it.

Some bridges you crossed on your own, no matter who drove you to the edge

Rhage exhaled slowly, air easing out of his nose. As he sank into his skin, he reveled in the perfection of peace. The heavenly silence. The great roaring absence.

I am very comfortable with conflict, be it of the legal or mortal kind. My father was a mediator, a bridge maker. I am a grave maker.

Bad deeds like beauty, are in the eye of the beholder.

The human reached inside Wrath’s jacket and started pulling out weapons. Three throwing stars, a switchblade, a handgun, a length of chain. “Jesus Christ,” the cop muttered as he dropped the steel links on the ground with the rest of the load. “You got some ID? Or wasn’t there enough room in here for a wallet, considering you’re carrying about thirty pounds of concealed weapons?

I miss you.…” He stroked the indentation of the gown where her waist would have been—should have been. “I miss you so much.