e i g h t

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t a y l o r

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Trouble never looked so goddamn fine

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Making my way to Astrid's room, I winced slightly at the pain in my ribs.

Thunder's a fucking bitch.

I opened the door without knocking, walking in to see the topless woman with a drink in her hand.

She turned as she heard the door opening, grinning at me as she took a sip of the whiskey.

Fuck me.

That smile.

The way her eyes squinted slightly and her dimples appeared.

A pair of soft, black sweatpants hugged her hips gently, outlining her perfect curves.

Her breasts held up by a black, lace bra.

Oh damn.

The scar on her neck ran down to her breasts, disappearing under her bra. Curiosity lingered in my stomach as I wondered once again how it happened, yet fury reigned in my mind as I imagined slicing open the motherfucker who dared to harm her.

Catching me staring at her, she ran a finger along the scar. The smile still etched onto her face and a spark of mischief in her eyes. It appeared as if the alcohol was finally affecting how she not only viewed herself, but how she approached the topic as well. "It's just a knife wound, Taylor. It's not a big deal."

My gaze shot up to her eyes before I could stop myself, "No big deal? I'll kill the fucker who did it with my bare hands."

She shrugged, "He's already dead."

Good.

She interrupts me before I had the chance to reply, "You killed someone before, didn't you? While we were fighting?"

My blood ran cold.

Elijah.

He tried to take me down. Me.

Not only did he try to take me down, but the motherfucker didn't even have the balls to do it alone.

The bastard signed his own death warrant the moment his cold gaze met mine.

I studied her expression, yet she refused to give anything away.

She hated murder, that much I already knew.

I put my head down. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't ashamed or regretful. But I knew she wouldn't look at me the same way, and for some reason that bothered me.

"Don't you feel guilty?" She pressed further, confusion littering her tone.

A Viper will never lie or give false information.

I grit my teeth and look back up at her, building a cold wall in my eyes. "I don't have any time to feel guilty about the shit I do, and neither do you. If you want shit done the way you want, you'll have to get your hands dirty."

"Guess I'll just have to deal with it then." She concluded with a deep sign, grabbing an oversized shirt and putting it on. Disappointment rose in my stomach yet I kept it hidden.

I'm not about that emotional life.

I can't get attached.

"So you've never killed anyone?" I questioned, curiosity making itself known in my voice.

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