There’s something about seeing an adult you knew in childhood that makes them marginally vulnerable to you, and vice versa. There’s also something comforting in thinking that if they made it this far, relatively unscathed, then maybe you didn’t turn out half bad either.

Just because someone tried to make you into a victim didn’t mean that’s what you had to be.

I didn't know his middle name or his favorite color, but I knew how his thoughts felt caressing my mind. The bright tang of his adrenaline coursing under my skin. The force of his heart, strong and rhythmic and a bit sad, pumping within my own chest.

Looks can’t hide your true identity. It’s the eyes that give you away…the soul behind them. The intent. The Shadows.

There’s something about seeing an adult you knew in childhood that makes them marginally vulnerable to you, and vice versa. There’s also something comforting in thinking that if they made it this far, relatively unscathed, then maybe you didn’t turn out half bad either.

So much to say, yet no words would ever be enough.

So. You're a fallen angel." She folded her arms. "I'm not fallen," he said roughly. "Then what are you?" He shrugged. "Busted.