The nerve. Threatening you and not being precise about it.

Mac." He said my name and laughed. "What a name for something like you. Mac.

Like sheep, sidhe-seers herd by nature, until you *want* them to go somewhere. Then they're all fluffy bottoms and broken.

This isn't what I wanted. This isn't what I would have chosen. You must know that. It's important you know that.

Barrons knows virtually everything about me. I wouldn’t be surprised if somewhere he has a little file that encompasses my entire life to date, with neatly mounted, acerbically captioned photos—see Mac sunbathe, see Mac paint her nails, see Mac almost die.

A woman who’s lived in a cage all her life. And hates it. Bored in there, aren’t you. Waiting for life to happen. And when it finally does, it steals from you what you loved most. So take back. Explode. Lash out. Blow up

Strength wasn‘t about being able to do everything alone. Strength was knowing when to ask for help and not being too proud to do it.