Still nursing his whip wound, Jaroen lay moaning on the floor.
When he saw Maeve casually shatter a grown man's wrist with her heel, his eyes practically bugged out of his head.
She was a beautifully brutal nightmare.
She didn't give The Clown a second to breathe.
Snatching a pistol from his waistband, she aimed it dead center at his forehead.
"Enjoying the show so far?"
His face was completely drained of color, thick drops of sweat rolling down his temples.
"You crazy bitch—"
Before he could finish, she whipped the heavy steel grip of the gun across his jaw.
He spat out a mouthful of blood and two molars.
The impact was absolutely devastating.
"I despise it when walking corpses swear at me."
With just one hand, she ejected the magazine and popped the rounds out.
She pried his mouth open and shoved the bullets right inside.
"Dinner is served. Tell me how it tastes."
Before he could gag, she struck his throat hard, forcing him to swallow the brass casings.
It wouldn't kill him, but the ensuing agony would be unimaginable.
Jaroen nearly wet himself watching the scene unfold.
Even Daisy, who had been terrified for her friend's safety, was stunned. The normally quiet and composed Maeve was downright terrifying when unleashed.
While the man retched on the floor, Maeve quickly sliced through the ropes binding Daisy to the chair.
Without the restraints, Daisy slumped forward, but Maeve caught her before she hit the ground.
She did a rapid assessment of her injuries.
Aside from her mangled fingertips, she hadn't suffered any life-threatening wounds.

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