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Finch backs the SUV down the first alleyway she finds. Just the time she needs. The men are stupid enough to come down front-first. She misses and accidentally kills the driver. She does better on the second man, shoots him mid-chest, far enough from the heart that she should have a few moments. She’s braced for the crash and her seat is back far enough that the airbag is simply a white screen before her a moment. Still, it is jarring. And the entire shootout has gone down in the space of a single chorus from that almighty racket they’re calling a song a block back.
Finch stumbles from the car, rights herself, keeps her gun drawn in front.
It’s Connor. Only a year older than her. Only a year behind in his training. One of Gregor’s best men. A few years back Finch might have even made the mistake of thinking him a friend of sorts.
She pulls him from the bloody front seat, lays him on the ground, presses her barrel into the gaping hole in his chest.
He howls like a little girl. He never could stand pain. No stomach for it. Why he never would have been the very best, no matter how long or how hard he trained. You can’t dish pain without dealing with your fair share. It’s pain karma. It’s a bitch.
All things considered, this is actually Finch’s lucky day, isn’t it?
Connor howls again. Finch moves the barrel to his left knee.
“So, Connor. What are you doing here?”
She gives him three seconds. When he doesn’t answer in them she blows off the first kneecap. Moves her barrel to the right.
“Clearly Elana sent you,” she helps him out. “What’s the bounty? And how many of you?”
She’s feeling generous. Gives him five seconds. Shoots out his second knee. It’s not like he’ll be needing them anyway.
“The Nenan estate!” he gasps, her barrel against the first elbow. “And all of us owe you a visit. You killed Gregor.”
A debt of honor then. The entire barracks will be after her if they believe this tripe. You don’t kill your own. Leastwise not without an order from Elana. It’s the only trust they’ve ever had their entire lives. It’s sacred. It’s the only thing standing between them being a pack of wild dogs and Finch has always suspected they know it. If they believe Finch killed Gregor of her own accord… She has threatened their entire world view. They will be rabid for her.
“He was alive when I left him.” But she doesn’t give Connor a chance to respond. Because it doesn’t really matter, does it?
She gives him the mercy of a bullet between the eyes.