KIRA’S POV.
“You don't know anything about me,” I retorted.
Dead Ted looked at me through the rearview mirror, “Indeed, you’re right, I don’t. But fight for yourself? The weak don’t survive in this cold world.”
“I want to.” I chuckled wryly, “Do you know what it’s like to feel the urge to drag someone along the tarmac, punch someone in the face, or scream so loud your lungs give out?”
“No. I fulfill my urges. You only live once. Why waste it bottling up emotions?”
“That was a rhetorical question.”
“As long as it answers yours,” he countered, his tone unbothered.
“You can say this because you’re brave. You’ve probably spent your whole life training in some mafia facility, so fear doesn’t even register with you. You can do things without caring about consequences, and even if karma ca
