A/N: First off, please allow me to apologize for the radio silence over the past couple of months. Apparently planning a wedding isn't the walk in the park I thought it would be! I have been up to my ears in portfolios filled with options that I thought I would never care about. But suddenly I guess I need to start caring about how many different types of roses there are and how to make decoupage look elegant.

So yes. I have been taking a small break from posting (even though I have about nine or ten half-written chapters for the incomplete stories on my page). I will update Sticks and Stones and The Third in August [hopefully] after the wedding and honeymoon. I SWEAR! I almost want to finish writing them out before I resume posting chapters, just because I'd hate to leave people hanging again.

Anyway! I started writing this sucker right after I finished A Confession of Pain, but I wanted to hold off on posting it because I wanted to give people a break from that particular storyline. But what the hell! I enjoy writing Molly's story and it relaxed me to add to the ramblings already started in these two chapters.

That being said, I really hope you guys like this! It's a part of the Molly-verse, so you might want to read Flynn and Confession prior to reading this. I do don't think you'd be TOTALLY lost if you skipped them, but it would definitely make it easier to follow this story.

Have a great weekend and thank you for reading!

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Frozen fingers clung to the wooden handle of her weapon.

"The journeyman's mallet." Caleb had called it. "It's better when working in smaller spaces."

The carpenter went on, pointing out which pieces of furniture in the Ambassador's home had benefited from the small tool-the step stool in the pantry, the side table just inside the foyer, the faux taxidermy animal heads lining the wall of the study, and so forth. He probably named at least ten other examples, but she had learned to tune to old man out weeks prior.

Now, this tiny mallet with flat brass head was nothing more than a blunt instrument that would obliterate the skull of the filthy excuse of a man pacing the floor beneath her.

Hay and dust lined the floor of the barn's loft, but it didn't faze her. She had once crouched in a bin of pig and cow innards for three hours while waiting to take out a butcher on the Upper Eastside. A little dirt wasn't going to impede her focus.

Rain began to beat against the tin roof overhead, muffling his heavy pants.

Out of breath from the chase, he was struggling to remain upright. Even in the dark, she could see him crouching over and grabbing his knees. He wasn't as great as he thought. He wasn't as strong as he thought. He wasn't as terrifying as he thought.

Here was the creature-the pathetic creature-who had terrorized an entire community for nearly a year; killing those who were vulnerable and weak.

Children were warned of him as they went to bed. They locked their windows and checked their closets repeatedly before finally resting their heads. Curfew for all ages was at nine every night and no one argued-not even the most rebellious of teenagers. Sweet old church ladies and housewives ruined their gorgeous décor by placing metal bars on their windows and gaudy alarm systems in the front hallways. The single entrance to the main road was now gated with guards on round the clock duty.

A Mayberry'esque town was turned into Fort Knox because of this weasel. This sniveling little man who couldn't even run a mile without choking back vomit. She would make sure to give the Editor-in-Chief at the local paper precise details of the killer's dastardly demeanor just before his demise.

With that thought, she decided it was time.

Reaching up with her free hand, the one with a damn nail sticking through it, she grasped onto the splintered railing and pushed herself onto her feet.

She had forgotten about her broken nose but was quickly reminded when she sharply inhaled, attempting to clear some runniness caused by the cool weather. As soon as she sniffled, blood poured down her throat and into her mouth.

Despite her best efforts, she coughed and sputtered at the coppery taste and thick mucus clogging her windpipe.

Her target looked up at the pathetic sounds and she rolled her watery eyes.

So much for sneaking up on him. She groused internally.

With a sigh, she moved out of the shadows so that he could at least see her silhouette. If she wasn't going to have the element of surprise, she may as well enjoy seeing the fear in his eyes before she ended him.

"Good evening." She smiled. Blood dripped past her lips and onto her teeth; she wasn't going to bother wiping it away at this point. There was about to be more...so much more...gore added to her face, so it was better to clean it all off at one time. It was always easier that way.

Climbing up onto the top of the railing, she prayed that it wouldn't give way under her weight. That would be embarrassing. Her knee was beginning to register the pain of the bullet embedded in it, but she didn't pay it any mind.

Without another thought, she lifted her weapon and pounced.

/\\\

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