I hated the b***h. I f*****g hated her more than I hated Cristian.
Aiming my gun at her chest, I unloaded every single bullet and watched as it pierced right through her heart. Or at least, that was what I imagined while I practiced at the gun range. I wished, wanted, ached for that flimsy piece of paper to be her.
After reloading, I fired off fifteen more bullets into the target and set my gun down on the counter, hands trembling in rage. It hadn’t even been an hour since my lovely encounter with the b***h—I couldn’t even think her name—and I was still f*****g shaken up.
lovelyNot because of her threats. Because I wanted to kill her.
Kill her.
Kill her.Cristian had asked me to kill over and over and over these past few weeks, and I’d declined every f*****g time. But when I had seen h
