It doesn’t matter,” said Adrian, smiling. He rested a hand on my shoulder. “Some things are worth the trouble.

Come on outside when youʹre done,ʺ I told her. ʺItʹs like the barbecue of the damned. Except . . . thereʹs no grill.

My mom beat me up," I informed my reflection. It looked back sympathetically.

Everyone wanted what she couldn't have.

I have to get back there." I said to Adrian. "Into that door." He arched an eyebrow. "What, like sneaking in? How very black ops of you. And oh, you know— dangerous and foolish." "I know." I said, surprised at how calm I sounded as I admitted that. "But I have to know something, and this may be my only chance." "Then I'll go with you in case that guy comes back," he said with a sigh. "Never let it be said Adrian Ivashkov doesn't help damsels in distress.

You should know better.ʺ ʺIʹve never known better,ʺ he countered. ʺYou should know that.

The nice thing about a series is you can end on cliffhangers all the time. You can be like, 'You know what? Here we go, this person just died, end of book.' And with the end of the series, you're very conscious of all the plotlines that were left hanging. There's a balance there to wrap those up but still leave it exciting.