I wouldn't say hate, exactly. You're kind of like fungus, Gwen. After a while, you just start growing on people.

I'd be damned if I let him see the tears in my eyes.

You do realize that the cost of that bracelet is within spitting distance of my going rate as an assassin, right?” “You mean your going rate back when you were actually killing people for money,” Finn said. “Or as I like to call them— the good ole days.

I used to murder people for money, but these days it’s more of a survival technique.

The panther prowled around me in a loose, wide circle. Its mouth turned down, almost in a pout, and it seemed disappointed that I wasn't going to run away. Or scream, at the very least. Its tail, which was at least three feet long, twitched back and forth in what seemed to be annoyance. Or maybe anticipation. I didn't know. I'd always been more of a dog person. I cleared my throat, and the panther stopped and flicked up one of its rounded ears. Listening. "Um, nice kitty?

Killing people was far easier than making polite chitchat.

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