Isabella Starling

Rules are for losers who think the world needs order, then hire men like me to disrupt that order.

Her blinds are open as she crouches and feeds her cat. Two, actually.

Someone is a cat lady.

A cat lady with a fake smile and little to no friends.

Most women keep makeup in their bags, she keeps fucking cat food.

Go figure.

They’re adorable kids.” They’re not, but she doesn’t need to know that

Fucking hell. I can’t believe I’m giving strikes to cats.

My man. She called me her fucking man.

Damn Jasper. If he kidnapped me, couldn’t he bring the cats, too?

Speak of the devil. Literally.

Whoever said it’s easy to move on should get a bullet to the head.

No, that’s lenient, a knife, and not to the heart. They should die by a thousand cuts.

Time heals everything is the lie of all lies. It’s the fucking epitome of lies.

There’s no such thing as fucking healing. It’s an open wound that just keeps getting infected the more time passes.