“Wrath: What the hell are you supposed to ask?Rhage: I know! Who do you like the most? It's me right?Come on, you know it is. Come oooooonnnnn-Butch: If its you,, I'll kill myself.V: No, that just means she's blind.Rhage: It has to be me.V: She said she didn't like you at first.Rhage: Ah, but I won her over, which is more than anyone else can say about you, hot stuff.J.R.: I don't like anyone the bestWrath: Right answer.Rhage: She's just sparing all of you feelings. (grins, becoming impossibly handsome) She's so polite.J.R.: Next question?Rhage: Why do you like me the best?”

“What did you call her?" she asks but I don't think it's her real question."Sunshine," I say, and she smiles like she believes it's perfect and she may be the only person other than me who would think so."What is she to you?" she whispers. The real question and I know the answer even if I don't know how to say it.Drew's muffled voice rises up from the floor before I can respond."Family," he says.And he's right.”

“That is one fine female, true?" V said.There was a low, affirmative grumble."And someone you do not want to mess with," the brother continued. "Man, you should have seen her when we came into that barn. She was standing over his body, ready to take the cop and me on with her bare hands if she had to. Like Wrath was her cub, you feel me?""Wonder if she has a sister?" Rhage asked.Phury laughed. "You wouldn't know what to do with yourself if you ran into a female of worth.""This coming from you, Celibate?" But then Hollywood rubbed the stubble on his chin, as if considering the ways of the universe. "Ah, hell, Phury, you're probably right. Still, a male can dream.""He sure can," V murmured.”

“Jesus Christ. . . he was not Omega's son. Was he?"No." V said. "You are not. He just wants to believe you are. And he wants you to think you are. But that doesn't make it true."There was a long silence. Then Rhage's hand landed on Butch's shoulder. "Besides, you don't look a thing like him. I mean. . . hello? You are this beefy Irish white boy. He's like. . . bus exhaust or some shit."Butch glanced over at Hollywood. "You're sick, you know that?""Yeah, but you love me, right? Come on, I know you feel me.”

“You know me better than anyone, and you're my best friend. I don't think there's anything you could say to me that would lead me to believe that you're doing it just to hurt me. If there's one thing I've come to know about you, it's that you're not even capable of something like that. Why do you think I like spending time with you so much? Because you're a good guy. A nice guy.”

“I don't like you, Jack. You know that, right ?""Right. No more than I like you, Brigham.""And I'm not afraid of this thing. I'm not afraid of anything. You know that, too, right ?""I've never seen you scared. I can give you that."Till now, he thought, but he didn't say that part aloud, mostly because it would piss her off and he was dying to see where the hell she was going with it."Good, just so we're clear on it. I wouldn't want you to take it the wrong way when I ask you to spend the night with me.”