It would be so much easier if there were a secret password, or handshake. Netherworld, open sesame! Yeah, that didn't work, either.

Sorry doesn’t mean anything! Not when you’re still with him. It’s not just that you cheated—it’s that he’s still here, and you’re still with him. It just goes on and on, and it hurts every single time I see you with him. I hate it that he makes you smile, and that there’s nothing I can do to stop this. I can’t think straight, and everything hurts, and nothing makes sense anymore. You’re shredding my heart with one hand and stroking his ego with the other. And it’s killing me, Faythe. You’re killing me. And it’s only going to get worse, now that everyone knows.

Hey." Tod squeezed my hand to draw me out of my thoughts. "I think death looks good on you.

Did you think you could dump me, and I'd bounce back to her and miraculously be happy? I'm not a Ping-Pong ball. You can't just swat me back and forth and expect me to be content wherever I land. If Tod dumped you tomorrow, would you come back to me?

Um, Faythe?” Marc reached for my arm, and a small grin turned up one corner of his beautiful mouth. “As my first official piece of advice to the new Alpha, let me suggest that you put on some pants. And maybe a shirt.” His grin grew and pulled me closer to whisper in my ear, while Jace watched us stiffly from across the room. “While the look definitely works for me, I’m thinking the other Alphas might take you more seriously if you dress the part.

Maybe I won't look so bad when you're not standing next to me.

Sneak out." He shrugged, as if that should have been a no-brainer. But that was easy for him to say. He was dead. What else could they do to him, take away his birthday?