f**k, how I wish she was now. “No. She wasn’t.”
Wren sobs loudly, but she clamps a hand over her mouth as though she’s ashamed of the sound. “S-so… you did it?” she
“If it’s any consolation, she was still unconscious when I pulled the trigger.”
I expect that weak comfort to be met with anger. Fury, even. But instead, she blinks furiously, unleashing more tears. “S-so shed-didn’t feel any pain?”
“No. There was no pain in the end.”
Her breathing comes in ragged spurts and her cheeks and her chest are blotchy with spots. For a moment, I worry that I’ve toldher too much. That I’ve been too honest. The woman is nine months pregnant and I’ve chosen this moment to tell her inexcruciating detail how I killed her sister.
Then again, she was the one
