My Name's Jet Steele.

You Guys Didn't Really Think You Could Go Off On A Party Weekend Without Me, Did You? Especially Here Of All Places—" He Froze And It Was One Of Those Rare Moments When Adrian Ivashkov Was Caught Totally And Completely Off Guard. "did You Know," He Said Slowly, "that Victor Dashkov Is Sitting On Your Bed?" "yeah," I Said. "it Was Kind Of A Shock To Us Too.

Adrian Frowned. 'is That A Noose?' 'it's A Tie!' I Cried, Trying Not To Feel Offended. He Laughed, Clearly Delighted At This. 'my Mistake.

Slushes. Do You Know How Much I Love Those? Cherry, Especially.

I’d Seen Him Fight Before, But It Never Got Old. He Was Captivating. He Never Stopped Moving. Every Action Was Graceful And Lethal. He Was A Dancer Of Death.

All This Time…ever Since I Sold My Soul, I’ve Been Clinging To This Idea That There Is Something Pure And Decent Out There. That There Was Something To Give Me Hope That Even If I Was A Lost Cause, At Least There Was Something Bright And Good In The World. But There Isn’t. If There Was, Seth Wouldn’t Have Fallen. Erik Wouldn’t Have Died. Andrea Mortensen Wouldn’t Be Dying.” -georgina To Carter