" You’re my captive,” I tell him as he awkwardly pushes himself up to sitting position. His wings lift at his back as he does so. Death’s eyebrows lift. “I’m your … ?” He smirks then. “Captive.” He says the word with relish and perhaps a pinch of humor, and maybe I should stab him again. Just, you know, to remind him of the power dynamics here. "

― Laura Thalassa , Death (The Four Horsemen, #4)