Chapter Thirty-nine
Savich house
Georgetown
Friday night
—hold the bitch down! I’m going to cut up that pretty face!
The vicious words echoed clearly in her mind, as clearly as the moment the man said them, like he was high on drugs he was so excited. And yes, there’d been a slight accent, like Basara’s, but had she heard his voice before? Was that even possible?
If ads affect your reading experience, click here to remove ads on this page.