Belleza knew never to take into consideration the intentions of a He. Intentions were useless for coping with one. He might mean you well and he might mean you ill, but you looked at the results, the outcome. So should she run away from this one? Should she play nurse and tend him? Get her gun and shoot him?

Belleza had never shot at something alive.

WANNA. WANNA.

"You are a redundant beast," Belleza said dismissively.

Then a terrible chill numbed her. Perhaps he wasn’t alive. Perhaps he was the sign she had been looking for, the evidence that she was dead.

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