DON’T LOOK AT ME

Eve goes back to
London.

She gets a shitty
flat of her own and a job that’s a step below the one she started out with
before she set her eyes on justice in the shape of a goddamn peerless woman with a knife in her boot
and a gun behind her back. Eve torched her life to find Villanelle and now she’s
back where she started, nothing in her hands, nothing behind her back, nothing.

Eve goes back to
London before she knows if Villanelle lived through what she did to her, what
felt like the only reasonable conclusion to being in bed with a psychopath who’s
been targeting her. Even though, underneath the feeling of her heart pounding
and her hand getting sweaty around the knife’s handle, she is aware of three
things: there are so many ways that she could fuck this up and end up dead, a
few weeks ago she wouldn’t have been able to hurt someone like she’s about to,
and she wants to kiss Villanelle more than she’s ever wanted to kiss anyone in
her life.

The thought makes
her nauseous even though it’s not surprising.

Obsessions often
turn sexual, even when it shouldn’t.

And she is—obsessed.

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