Lesley

“I never want to hear that sound again, Juniper.” He gripped the cloth in his hand, his fingers slowly curling into a fist around it. He was shaking his head, his jaw clenched so tight that a vein in his temple was slowly turning black. “I never want to hear the way you sound when you’re in pain like that...when you’re scared like that…” He looked away from me, fixing his smoldering gaze on the far wall. “I slaughtered them all, Juniper. Every single one. I promise you right now that nothing that dares try to hurt you gets to live. Nothing.” His voice became a growl and he closed his eyes, breathing slowly.”
― Harley Laroux, Her Soul for Revenge

“Sometimes, there’s no running, no fighting. Sometimes, bad shit happens. The bad shit changes you. You can’t look at the world the same. You realize that manners, morals, culture, society, friends, and family are all fake. They’re ideas we cling to, to make existence bearable. When that’s ripped away — the fake optimistic bullshit — the only thing you have left is survival. Survival is messy. Survival has no morals or kindness. Survival isn’t black and white, good versus evil. Survival is shades of red; it’s blood taken and blood lost. My survival was a gun, liquor was my sustenance, and rough sex was my painkiller.”
― Harley Laroux, Her Soul for Revenge

“Murder bitches, get fucked...or something like that.” She gave me a long, exasperated stare. “It’s fuck bitches, get money, Zane.” “Right, yeah, that’s what I said.”
― Harley Laroux, Her Soul for Revenge

“I’ve never given anyone permission to summon me. But if you can, bring me back to you.”
― Harley LaRoux, Her Soul to Take