TRADING MY CHEATING HUSBAND FOR THE LYCAN KING
But I’ll tell you that when we leave, Queenie is carrying a discreet black bag like it contains the crown jewels, and she keeps looking at me and dissolving into giggles.
And I keep looking at the bag and thinking about Knox’s face, the unflappable wall of him, and feeling a warm, vicious, anticipatory glee that I have not felt in — possibly ever.
Revenge, it turns out, is an excellent mood.
“He’s going to lose his mind,” Queenie says happily, as we rejoin the traumatised guards on the street.
“That’s the idea.”