LILLIANA
I knew how to fire a bloody bullet; I didn’t know how to take one. And whoever said taking one in your arm doesn't hurt, didn’t know anything about getting shot. It hurts so f*****g bad, even with morphine injected into my system.
And this whole getting-shot-in-the-arm wasn’t good enough that I had to listen to Viktor yapping, on and on, about how he wanted to kill me.
Seriously. Getting killed seemed a better choice than listening to Viktor.
Right now, lying on the hospital bed, I wondered: how many enemies did Mia inherit when she married Viktor?
Given Viktor’s crazy state, he should lock away his wife forever because someone someday is going to get lucky with a shot. And that day, I don’t plan on being around.
For a brief second there, with bullets flying everywhere,
