“This is ridiculous,” I mutter to myself. “I’ve removed a man’s heart while it was still beating. But eyes? Nope. Hard limit.” I tap the knife handle against my palm, stalling. The cold metal bounces against my skin while I try to psych myself up. “What kind of professional killer has an eye phobia? That’s like a chef who can’t stand the sight of onions. Or a librarian terrified of paper cuts.” The knife hovers while my hand trembles. Blood continues pooling beneath the body, inching closer to my shoes. I shift my position, buying a few more seconds of delay. “Come on, Rhodes. They’re just
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