Ms. Weltonham found herself, more than anything else, startled by her death.

She was enjoying the sensation of her final target’s juices cooling on her thigh—the way the woman’s pussy quivered a few times as she died. This firefight had been challenging, but she’d taken out all ten of the Svenska patrol. The last one, she’d taken her time with.

And suddenly, Ms. Weltonham found herself ripped open. She heard herself yelp in shocked fear, over the blast of automatic fire. She saw pieces of herself splash away. She knew, immediately, that she would take many agonizing minutes to die. Knew, also immediately, that she would be helpless that entire time to do anything but scream and beg—and that she would scream and beg.

She felt her knees begin to weaken, and thought for the first time—but not the last, before she died—that this could not be happening.

Not to her!