Chapter 65

• The urge to scratch his face or punch him in the nose was as overwhelming as the desire to run away from this horrible nightmare and not look back. I wanted death, and sometimes I wished I’d gone with Father that day.
• “I hate you, Ronan.” I resisted the urge to spit when his eyes twinkled mischievously.
• “Get her the fuck out of my sight,” he ordered Hannah, his eyes still holding mine, “and I don’t want to hear that anything went wrong. Do you hear me?”