Invisible. Maybe right now. But the bitch is out there, somewhere. Mingling at some swanky nightclub. Passing off my algorithm as her own. Teasing out the highest bidders. Throwing back her head in laughter.
If she knew what I know, she wouldn’t be laughing.
A smile just a touch too ingratiating, an embrace just a second too long. I marked that bitch the day we met.
Flaco will be on her soon enough. Swoop in with his nanodrones and spike a drink or two. Convulsions on the dance floor as the blood spurts from her nose, her mouth, her traitorous bitch ass.
When the Ancient Masters said that poison is a woman’s weapon, they weren’t using empty phrases.
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