A thundercloud rolled over her face and for a second there, she didn’t look a thing like a girl who loved pink and knittin’ thick, fluffy fuckin’ blankets curled up on the couch to watch classic movies or anime shows. She looked like a woman scorned who wouldn’t rest ’til vengeance was exacted on those who’d wronged her. It was a look I’d seen in the mirror a thousand times, on Mei, too. On my brothers in the club and some of their women, even the softer ones like Cressida after King was shot. But never on Cleo. It was as beautiful as it was terrifyin’.
