BLAINE
She scoffed, narrowing her eyes at me. “Good to know what you think of me.”
“To think of it, the idea of you beating me up is... well, let’s say, it’s not entirely unpleasant.”
“You weird sicko,” she muttered, “If I weren’t still healing, you’d already be on the floor.”
“I am looking forward to you trying, once you’re at full strength.”
At that sentence, I saw it again. The flicker in her eyes. The spark she had as a kid, standing against my father and me, daring us to underestimate her.
“So, when do I get my weapons back?”
“Whenever I feel like it.”
Her mouth tightened. “Che cazzo… stronzo (What the f**k … asshole),” she muttered under her breath.
I tilted my head. “You curse very well for someone raised outside this world.”
“I’m a quick study,” she bit back. “Now, if you
