CHAPTER XXVIII. I have taken bullets and lived, and even a silver one wouldn’t do much. Rhea’s head exploded into a spray of blood, brain, and bone. She unlaced his pants and slid them down his hips, examining him as he stood before her naked. She was sore and overstrung, and it was intolerable to her that he should stand within three yards of her unsuspectingly, with an incalculably vast power over her happiness. She spotted her opportunity.
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