"Put that thing away," Luciano whispered to the mortal who rolled his eyes skyward, tucking the revolver back into the waistband of his trousers. "Could you please stop pointing that at people?"
"I was protecting you, you prick," he retorted, his eyes narrowed to slits. "She had a knife held to your neck."
"Why would you call her a bitch?"
His jaw tightened, the muscle in his cheek twitching. "Because she is."
"Every single time you aim that weapon at someone, bad shit happens. Do you want another Atropos situation?"
"If she pulls that shit again," he started earnestly, "I will not hesitate to blow her brains out, immortal or not."
"No, you won't."
"You wanna bet?"
