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Summary
"She doesn't care about you prey. She just cares enough to keep you alive so we can hunt and feed Her."
"Is that what you all call us? Prey?"
"Aren't you?"
She lifted her gaze from his mask to the ceiling, grumbling under her breath. The Ghost Face chuckled again and quick as lightning, grabbed her jaw, digging his fingers in to turn her head to look at him once more. "You're cute when you pout, kitten." The leather squeaked as his gloved fingers dug in painfully to her bruised cheeks. "Gonna need some sort of compensation. For saving you, and all. A reward of some sort."
~
Death comes again and again for Morgan in the Fog. The ever-constant push and pull between ‘killer’ and ‘survivor’ blur the lines between good and evil.
But to take comfort in the arms of someone who relishes in seeing your blood on their blade weaves an intricate web of lies and half-truths.After all, what’s one more death, right?