Blythe stares down at his chest for a moment, appalled, before he whips his handsome face back up to mine. “What the fuck, Ari!?” he shouts, his teeth lengthening to dangerous points. I take a step back, leveling the gun at his face, knowing a paintball placed there will cause enough pain to give me a head start if I need to run.
“I told you I didn’t want to work with you,” I say, my voice cold. “You should listen to soldiers who tell you, several times, that they’re not on your side.”
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