Wrath had been wanting some kind of epic battle. She loved getting blood under her fingernails, but she hadn't wanted to upset George. And then the fucking Greek had messed with her brother and now he had to suffer.
When he called for her to come out, she did, stepping out from behind a car with her brass knuckles grasped firmly in her hands. She loved that everyone who looked at her underestimated how strong she was because she was tiny and looked so fragile. She was a sin and he was a part of decaying history.
She was going to shatter his skull.
"You smell like fucking seaweed," she hissed out at him.