F O R T I E T H

WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS STRONG USE OF LANGUAGE/S. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

“You’re not the one to kill him, Vaughn!” She stares at Rade suspiciously.

. . .

To Vaughn’s dismay, all she did was let out a scoff. Taking a hold of John’s hair, pulling it up to tilt his head up to look at her. “Look at me, you prick! I’ll make sure that you’ll never get to see tomorrow’s daylight,”

Their gunfight quieted down somehow. Only a few of John’s men were still left fighting, while others lay lifeless in a bloodbath on the cold floor.

“Please don’t kill me,” John’s voice was in a begging tone, which Vaughn finds awfully disgusting to hear from a man that killed many, but not by his own hands. John makes a pleading look as he looks at Vaughn, while she still holds his hair-tightening its grip.