"You're done for."
From the hint of a smile lingering at the corner of the young man's mouth, Beatrice faintly discerned such an implication.
Feeling disdainful while simultaneously, an utterly absurd thought emerged unbidden.
I'm done for?
Just because of you, pierced by my hand and lying like a dead dog?
It seemed that for Beatrice, such action was not enough to alleviate the anger and resentment Lynn had brought her this night. Clutching his neck, she pulled her arm out from his chest, then with another swipe, impaled his abdomen.
Blood splattered again, several meters away.
This act also caused the young man's body to tremble.
At this moment, Lynn's expression was weak; no longer was there the frenzied toughness of a hard man, as if everything that had happened earlier was but a fantasy induced by Beatrice's deep corruption.
But She was very aware that it was no fantasy.
