A gun I had been brought down by a gun. It was practically comical. Cheaters, I thought. I’d spent my life focusing on hand to hand combat, learning to dodge fangs and powerful hands that could snap my neck. A gun? It was so… well, easy. Should I be insulted? I didn’t know. Did it matter? I didn’t know that either. All I knew in that moment was that I was going to die, regardless.

I said earlier that dead things don't always stay dead. Well, I'm one of them. don't worry - I'm not like the Strigoi. But I did die once (I don't recommend it).

if you'd teach me to swear in russian, i might have a new appreciation for it

None of the bravado he usually showed was there. I guess there was "usually" and then there was being held in the grip of a really ripped, really tall, and really pissed off Russian guy.

That's smart. Once Sonya's able to talk, we'll need to move." He smiled. "Sydney's turning into a battle mastermind." "Hey, she's not in charge here," I teased. "She's just a soldier." "Right." He lightly brushed his fingers against my cheek. "Sorry, Captain." "General," I corrected, catching my breath at that brief touch.

Some people read books for fun.

We cannot road trip to Paris.