Nisha screeched. She released her hold on Misa and fell back, hissing in pain, screaming curses. She held her hands around her wound, and Misa saw it begin to stitch back up.
Hatred burned. Misa limply held the gun and shot once more, sending a bullet tearing through Nisha’s shoulder. Nisha cried out.
“You b***h!” Nisha seethed. “You little b***h!”
“That was for k********g Hethel,” Misa murmured. She blinked away the black spots from her vision. “The first was for being a bitch.”
She fired the gun again, hitting Nisha’s arm, earning another screech. The witch was desperately trying to speed up her healing.
“That was for framing Brin.”
Her stomach. “That’s for mistreating Sha’ka.” Misa hefted her weight against the tree, forcing herself to stand. Blood pour
