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

My name is Gin, and I kill people.

Did she just call me a bleeding toothpick? Kill her! Kill her now!

What did you expect? That he'd send you flowers and write you bad poetry? That dead Nemean prowler is pretty much as close to a stuffed animal as you're ever going to get from a Spartan like Logan Quinn.

Are you OK?" I asked. "I think so." Logan stared at me, and a smile pulled up his lips. "But maybe you should give me mouth-to-mouth, just to make sure.

No matter what happens, I'll always come back to you." "Promise?" I asked in a shaky voice. Logan's eyes burned with icy determination. "Promise.

I eat haughty, arrogant, manipulative, self-important bitches like you for breakfast, sugar. And then I go back for seconds.