“I want everyone to gather ’round and take a good, long look,” Clementine said. “My nephew, Dixon, did that a few minutes ago. Put enough bullets in this woman’s face that even her own mama wouldn’t recognize her. And he and the rest of my boys will do the exact same thing to you at the slightest whisper of trouble.”

The giants waved their guns, and everyone shuffled forward, although most of them tried very hard not to actually look at Jillian, or what was left of her. Couldn’t blame them for that. It even turned my stomach a little. Or perhaps that was just the guilt I felt, gnawing away at my insides.

“Now, I know she’s not the nicest thing to stare at, but there’s one more thing that’s important about this woman,” Clementine said. “One more thing that everyone here needs to know: her real identity. Because that’s not just some tarted-up trophy wife or debutante doll lying there getting blood all over the floor. Oh, no. That, ladies and gentlemen, is none other than Gin Blanco. The Spider herself. Ashland’s most infamous assassin. Deader than a fencepost.”

More shocked gasps rippled through the crowd. I closed my eyes, the guilt rising in my throat and choking me from the inside out.

“Come one, come all. Don’t be shy. Step right up and get a good long look at her. And think about this: me and my boys took out the Spider tonight. The toughest bitch in all of Ashland. Just like that.” She snapped her fingers. “Now, if we can do that, why, just imagine what we could do to all of you.”

While the crowd chattered and whispered at the giant’s revelation, I forced myself to open my eyes and study Jillian. Made myself commit to memory every gruesome detail of her blown-off face and slack figure. The smooth skin of her shoulders compared with the ragged edges of her ruined face. The pretty, shimmering, constant twinkle of crystals on her skirt next to the absolute stillness of her leg. The blood still oozing out of her horrible wounds, the color a perfect match to the glossy polish gleaming on her manicured nails.

I stared at Jillian until the sight of her was burned into my brain, an image I would never, ever forget. And then I shifted the image, the memory, to the heavy load of guilt that was already yoked across my shoulders.

I couldn’t bring Jillian back, but I could avenge her.

I could make Clementine realize what a stupid, sloppy, fatal mistake she’d made.

I was so wrapped up in my dark thoughts of guilt, rage, and revenge that it took me a moment to realize that my friends had forced their way to the front of the crowd.