Come on, Feyre. We don’t bite. Unless you ask us to.

I was not prey any longer, I decided as I eased up to that door.
And I was not a mouse.
I was a wolf.

No one was my master— but I might be master of everything, if I wished. If I dared.

I was not a pet, not a doll, not an animal.
I was a survivor, and I was strong.
I would not be weak, or helpless again
I would not, could not be broken. Tamed.

But I forgot to tell him,” I said quietly, opening the door, “that the villain is usually the person who locks up the maiden and throws away the key.”
“Oh?”
I shrugged. “He was the one who let me out.”.

When you spend so long trapped in darkness, you find that the darkness begins to stare back.