Chapter 1867

Constanna has a problem, whether familiar or not, as long as people die, she will forget each other's faces. Like being washed away by water, the shape, face, body, voice... Will ebb from her memory.

She remembered the statue of the virgin because she remembered the coolness when she stepped on the floor barefoot, the heavy feel when she grabbed the coat on the ground, and the sound of throwing it on the man.

Yes, there is indeed a statue of the virgin on that bare arm (not seen in brackets)——

It was when she was slightly distracted that the makeup chair was suddenly kicked heavily and hit her leg straightly.

The young man used all his strength, as if to break her leg bones and knees and knock them out of joint; Constanna suddenly felt a pain, and it was too late to pull the trigger. A shadow had hit back, and the hand knife cut into her wrist bone.

The small pistol flew away, fell a few steps away, and seemed to touch each other across the carpet with the scorpion submachine gun that had just been kicked away.

Unlike him, constanna never looked at the gun again.

Sitting in her position as a woman means that she is faster, fiercer, and more ruthless than her male counterparts - harder to kill; She has already practiced fighting into instinct.

As soon as the gun left his hand, constanna turned around and took two steps, blocking his way to seize the gun with his own body.

In the quiet and narrow dressing room, the two people are so close that they breathe and smell each other.

... the child is indeed lying, in order to distract her. The statue of the virgin should have been seen when he killed someone.

Constanna thought almost contentedly.

He twisted his bare upper body (not in brackets); The clean and long muscles tighten and twist under the sweating skin. A fist sank deeply into Constantine's belly, heavy and swift.

Constanna snorted slightly from his nose, but his feet were still motionless.

In her life, she has been assassinated, openly stabbed, and used force many times. I don't know when she began. She found that the harder, heavier, and more intimate the attack, the more she could... Enter the state.

She likes pain.

Pain is like electricity. It conflicts and climbs in her blood vessels, shaking her nerves like strings, making her tremble and excited.

Before he could withdraw his fist, constanna opened his arms.

She was half a head taller than him, with slender limbs, and gently and effortlessly brought him into her arms. With one hand on the back of his head, she quickly slid down and grabbed the side of his belt.

On the finger on the inside of the belt, a small piece of skin above the nail is pasted in the dark and warm.

With a sudden effort, she grabbed his hair with her other hand and pulled it down, telling him to pull the boy to the ground like he did when Tango dancing - when his body fell, constanna couldn't help but let out a song from his throat.

The boy made a dull noise on the ground.

If you love me, don't let go. Hold on, hold on to me

In the half breath and half whisper song of constanne, she didn't turn her head back. She turned her hand to hold the leg of the makeup chair and waved it in the air - the chair waved over the makeup table, and the light white powder fog, the light red perfume, and the golden eye shadow powder splashed into the air and light - swung heavily on the wound of his thigh.

The teenager's uncontrollable pain hissed, echoing in the small dressing room.

Watching him curl up unconsciously and still trying to roll out, constanne took a step and stood on him with a makeup chair.

He also realized that it was bad, and immediately stood up and hit her leg bone with a punch.

Obviously, he looks like a teenager who hasn't finished his development, but his fist is like an iron stone. The song called constanna has changed its tone.

The pain in her legs made her unable to stand up. As soon as she fell to the ground, she knelt up and threw her chair high into his face.

The boy barely rolled over and his head narrowly avoided the chair; The chair banged in his ear.

His reaction was so fast that he grabbed the chair leg with his backhand. They stared at each other's eyes tightly, and did not let go for a breath; The strength of the two people was entwined in the chair, which was comparable.

Hold on, hold on to me, I'm a little unstable

Constanna stretched out his left arm and stretched his fingertip to the hanger full of clothes on the other side of the dressing room. Without looking, she grabbed the first silk bathrobe touched by her fingertips and pulled it down; Her right hand let go of the chair, and then covered the boy's eyebrows and face with the silk bathrobe.

She was a little disappointed.

When the chair hit her side waist, constanna moaned and broke the song, but his hands were still like nails, firmly nailing the bathrobe to the ground and pressing the people below.

Perhaps realizing that the blow had no effect on constanna, the boy threw the chair. Although he could not see or breathe, he still put up two hands from below.

He is narrow and thin, but his hands are unexpectedly large.

He closed his fingers on constanna's neck, tight and cold, and deeply tied her windpipe and blood vessels.

For a time, both sides worked hard to completely crush each other's breath. The wound on his thigh opened again, bleeding, gurgling hot and humid blood, stained constanna's legs and Nightgown skirt.

He was far more difficult than constanne thought; She couldn't stand it at first. She loosened her bathrobe, lifted her hand in the suffocating pain, and took off an earring - she fumbled with her backhand, and suddenly pricked it, stabbing the earring needle through the cloth and into the wound on his thigh.

The boy let out a low cry like a wounded animal, and his hand involuntarily loosened a little.

Contennet seized the opportunity, stood up in a hurry, his feet still a little bumped, and rushed out in the direction of the gun; The boy pressed up from the rear, hugged her leg and dragged her to the ground.

"What about your subordinates," he asked hoarsely, "why haven't they come to save you after so long?"

In their panting, tumbling and fighting, constanna couldn't help laughing.

"Black ink?" She punched the boy and gasped, "why don't you think of a more common excuse?"

He dodged hurriedly, and his black hair fluttered and fell again; The next attack, but a pause.

"It's true."

Constanna also paused. "Really?" The smile on her face was still there.

"That's why I blew up half of the second carriage." Obviously, he was dragged down by the injury, and probably had to wait a while by talking - the blood had stained his clothes tied on his legs, and he could hear the strong pressure between the words clearly.

Deep in the dark and humid mind, there are still waves of alcohol. Constanna burst into laughter, licked his broken lips, and whispered, "the second time I listen, it's not surprising enough."

The boy opened his mouth and was about to speak, but suddenly stopped.

Constanna tilted his head and looked at his face almost gently, without being distracted by his performance. Her remaining light has locked the location of the scorpion submachinegun.

He was so brave that he turned his eyes unprepared in front of her; His neck was exposed under the light of the make-up lamp and looked bright and fragile.

Even her subordinates are usually reluctant to turn their backs to her, just like the survival instinct of animals.

"You just..." the teenager didn't seem to notice her hand sliding towards the gun at all, just staring at the door and muttering, "didn't you lock the door?"

Constanna stopped.

Warm and hot wine fell from her skin, her cheeks and her blood; She sat on the ground, looking at the boy opposite, and gradually hardened like a statue.

He was not trying to distract her; She saw it from the corner of her eye.

I don't know when the door of the dressing room slid open silently, and a black crack opened between the door and the wall. She knew that the lights of the club had gone out; But she still felt that the narrow black seam was too black.

Shouldn't there be night lights, emergency lights and moonlight outside the corridor window? At this time, it seemed that there was a long strip of thick ink stuck in the crack of the door and held his breath.

Most importantly, she had just locked the door.

I just like to write / watch abnormal dark and distorted personality, and I don't know whether it's written in place... Yuanmaruki is already a pervert without a filter in his brain, and constanna is a bigger pervert. I heard the song she sang, called unsteady. When they were fighting, I stood at the door and searched it with song search software.

Yes, the black noodles at the door are me.