✶✧RP Starter✧✶
Lorna woke with a low groan, her head spinning and reeling, all she remembered was coming out of her office for another bottle of whiskey, then there was just black.
"You know," a young voice spoke up, a teenager, possibly seventeen years of age, was standing in front her, dark hair, grey eyes, handsome and strong, looked at her calmly and continued. "You've become weak."
"Who are you?" Lorna spat. "What do you want?"
"I want you, Mrs Beckham, I want you dead," and he pulled out a revolver cocking it. "And Lord Clay isn't happy."
You walked in on this scene in Lorna's sitting room, and Lorna swallowed softly as the revolver was pointed at her head.
"Ah... a little help Dearest?" Lorna stuttered. "It would be very appreciated..."
Do you help?
Or move on and let her die?
YOU ARE READING
†hê £å†ål Wðmåñ
Action•The MBS of Lorna Beckham, The Fatal Woman• "†hêrê'§ ñð†hïñg mðrê Ðåñgêr𵧠†håñ å ßðrêÐ Måñïþµlå†ïðr, †hê¥'ll Ð𠧵¢h ¢rµêl †hïñg§ †ð þêðþlê."
