I know who you are,” Jack whispers. “I’ve always known you.” His hands glide up my arms, from the angles of my wrists to the creases of my elbows. He presses his mouth to my left ear—I shiver from his...
Welcome to the apocalypse. Where make-do is a motto and life seems wrong, out-of-place. Where the weak become strong because they have no other choice.
We know your secret.And we won’t be made invisible.
