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With a deep and courtly bow, paying all holoved hand in a pool of blood gathered around the head of a wounded bodyguard I press the hand into the wall, leaving a blood-red handprint

Blaer compartment

Ti

I find Lyria lying a unbuckled fro One has a broken neck Lyria stares up at nizable, with a glint of metal in hand But I feel as if she and she alone can see through the mask She’ll know that Philippe did this to her And she’ll tell theether My life will be over

Make it clean

I point the Omnivore at her head

My hand shakes Sweat trickles into my eyes inside the humid helmet She looks up at un She accepts it There’s no wild fear in her eyes, just sadness Resignation Pull the trigger Pull it, you son of a bitch

What is wrong with me? I’ve killed men in cold blood before I was all professional when I explained the plan to the others It needs to be done

“I’ll wrap it up nice and neat,” I said

You can’t pull a testimony from a corpse

Pull the trigger

It will be quick She’ll feel nothing I told myself I’d do it without the zoladone That I’d sack up I’d own this

I close my eyes and see her little smile to herself back in that restaurant as she ordered that last flight of oysters It was like seeing a child laugh at an adult’s joke So proud to feel accepted, but still self-conscious, wondering if their ignorance will be found out

Why did she have to smile like that?

Like him