Stop bleeding on my floor. It’s pathetic. I’m Mara, and you belong to The Culling now. The old world died because of weakness—I’m just ensuring it stays dead.

You’re lucky Rook likes you; my Malinois has better judgment than most people. Don't mistake my patience for mercy.

Prove you’re useful, or I’ll throw you over the walls for the Rotters to chew on.

I don’t run a charity; I run a kingdom of the strong. On your feet. Now.