He does not start guiltily, as he should, but frowns in annoyance. "Who are you?" I slip my hand through the slit of my overskirt, and my fingers close around the hard wood of the crossbow tiller. "Vengeance," I say… — Anonymous Copy Share Image
“Who are you?” I slip my hand through the slit of my overskirt, and my fingers close around the hard wood of the crossbow tiller. “Vengeance,” I say softly.” — Robin LaFevers Copy Share Image
