This Time, I'll Be the Villain's Favorite Daughter novel Chapter 395

Chapter 395 A Hundred and Thirty–Seven Times

When Snowfinch’s left arm got hit, instinet sent him dodging right. When his balance went, his left foot was always the one that found the ground first.

In a fight between killers, a single mistake was enough to flip the outcome.

His arm, his shoulder, his side, opened up one after another.

Somehow, he realized something. He wasn’t fighting an expert. He was fighting someone who knew every card he had.

For the first time, he felt a real spike of panic. His body shot backward, putting ten feet of distance between them.

But this time, Maya didn’t let him retreat. Her left hand snapped out in the instant he moved and caught the wrist of the arm he’d thrown up to balance himself.

His pupils contracted.

His left wrist carried an old injury. It had been there a long time. It didn’t bother him in everyday movement, but at one specific angle, with the wrist torqued the wrong way, it lost strength for a beat.

Maya had paid for that piece of information with three deaths.

She twisted his left wrist into the exact angle he couldn’t survive. Pain broke across his face. His brow knotted, his lips pressed thin, and his jaw clenched hard enough to make the muscle there jump.

He gritted his teeth and tore free. His counter came fast, and she slipped it again. He pivoted hard and brought his leg up to sweep her off her feet.

Maya saw it coming. She angled clear and whipped her right hand up in the same motion.

This time, he didn’t get away. The blade buried itself to the hilt in his side.

Snowfinch went still. His eyes went wide, his pupils locking on her face. Maya looked back at him, expressionless.

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Fear surfaced in him. He lifted a hand to push her away. She didn’t give him the chance. Her wrist turned, and the blade rotated ninety degrees inside him.

A muffled sound caught in his throat. His body started to slide downward. Maya went down with him into a crouch and didn’t let go.

The knife was still in him.

He dropped to his knees. Blood gushed out of his side, ran down the handle, and onto her hand. It carried

the iron smell of rust.

She knew it well by now. She’d smelled it a hundred times. The difference was that before, it had always been her own.

11:46 am P

Chapter 395* Hundred and Thirty–Seven Times

This time, hnally, she’d killed him before he could kill her

She murmured, “Sorry. This time, I win.”

Even if it was a cheap win, bought with reloads.

Finished

Snowfinch raised his head, “How many,” he said softly, with no strength left in it. “How many tries did it take?”

He really did feel as if he’d killed her hundreds of times by now. There was no other way she could have known him like this.

“A hundred and thirty–seven.”

He paused.

“A hundred and thirty–seven,” he repeated, his voice dropping. “All for one person?”

What kind of obsession was that? He didn’t get it. He couldn’t even imagine it.

Maya didn’t answer.

His eyes drifted closed. His body finally lost the last of its support, tipped forward, and crashed onto the dirt. Dust kicked up.

Maya was still crouched there, still holding the knife, blood on her hands and on her clothes. She wasn’t sure whose was whose anymore.

The dust had settled. It was over.

She dropped from her crouch onto the ground, pulled her knees up, and took a deep breath. The dust of the site, the rust smell of the blood, the late–autumn chill of the night, all of it filled her lungs at once.

“I did it, system.”

“Congratulations, Maya.”

The system sounded almost human. There was real relief in its voice.

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Maya let out a small choked sound and pressed her face into her knees. She lifted her head again a second later, eyes red and the corners of her mouth tilted up.

“Are there any other plot points I should know about? Tell me all of it.”

The system paged through the world’s storyline and went quiet for a moment.

“Keep an eye on the protagonist group. They’ve got a lot of government agencies and grassroots justice organizations behind them. Kaia coming back to the country was their doing. Otherwise, an heiress like Somalie would never have brought her along. The two of them don’t actually get along.”

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