“WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED?!” Georgina barely made it to their base. Camille picked her up, and she didn’t ask where her motorcycle was. Now, she was met with Nikita’s question. She sounded worried, but confusion was there, waiting for her explanation.
Camille helped her sit in a chair, and Georgina wearily leaned back. She was losing a lot of blood, and her vision was blurring. Camille handed her a bottle of whiskey for the pain, then poured alcohol over her hands and started working on her wound. It hurt like hell, but what could she do? She had been shot.
Georgina took a swig of alcohol and, after swallowing, looked at her friend. “Did you report to the Triad already?” Instead of answering Nikita, she asked her about their job.
“And say what? That you left one alive?” Nikita rubbed her
