by Katerina St. Clair
""Do you know what happens when you clip a bird's wings?" He questions coldly, keeping his finger under my chin as he forces me to look at him. "They can't fly," I mutter, feeling his body circle around me as he watches. "How many wings must I clip before you realize you can trust no one but me?" he questions coldly. I feel his hand run along my back, taking a mental note of each wound he has allowed them to deliver me. My body fills with chills, unable to hide my fears. "How many of yours and their people must I kill before you finally come to your senses?" He continues, pausing right in front of me. Unfortunates and Untouchables alike. They were nothing more than pawns in his sick game."--Page [4] of cover.
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