He looked up. His eyes were cold enough to give me frostbite. “No,” I breathed. But it was too late. He pushed the door open, and his lazy, heartless gaze found Charming. A muffled pop hit my ears. Blood splattered across the counter and cupboards. White powder dusted into the air as Charming hit the floor, cloudy blue eyes wide open, a bullet hole in his forehead.
Christians level of pettiness is what i live for
