Finn regarded pesky little things like wedding bands, engagement rings, and jealous, hulking menfolk more as amusing challenges than immovable obstacles that could be hazardous to his health.

Logan Quinn was the kind of guy who could stab me in the eye with a freaking Twizzler.

Quite a crowd tonight, Gin. Usually, it's just you and Finn." I shrugged. "What can I say? I seem to attract minions wherever I go these days. Kind of like the Pied Piper." Behind me, Finn huffed out his displeasure. "Minion? I am most certainly not a mere minion. Head minion, perhaps. At the very least.

You can work with me—or you can wade through the blood and bodies after I'm done.

I did not glow with the thrill of battle. Cringe, yes. Glow, no.

Emotions were for those too weak to turn them off.

I know, I know. But I can always kill him later. This way, at least we get to humiliate him first.” Finn eyed me. “Sometimes I think you’re even more devious, twisted, and vicious than I am.” I grinned. “You only wish you could be as ruthless as me.” “Absolutely.