a shot in the dark, chapter 7
“Betty,” he repeats, like he’s trying out how ridiculous it sounds as he stalks closer. Willing Jughead to stay frozen in place, she juts her chin out and squares her shoulders, allowing her anger to burn through any fear. Closer up, she can smell the alcohol from his breath, that sweat and sex stench of the Wyrm on his skin.
He studies her, but when he speaks, it’s directed back to Jughead. “Never thought I’d see the fuckin day, son. But I ‘spose I can’t blame you.” FP circles her, and Betty wills herself to stand firm, but not frozen. It’s a naked sensation after all these weeks not to have a gun in her hand. Jug’s knife is still in her boot—she takes a deeper breath at the thought.
“But I’m still gonna need more details on how this came to be. I can tell she ain’t a whore, and she been well fucking kept for most of her life. Hunger looks new on you, Miss—well, I suppose I should say, Mrs. motherfuckin’ Jones. Pardon my French.”
Her eyes narrow. “I speak French,” she tosses back. “And Betty’s just fine.”
read chapter 7
read from the beginning if ur like um it's been like 18 months wtf happened
