After much effort, Rosalie finally climbed off him. She was clutching her collar tightly, feeling somewhat at a loss.

Vincent pointed to a room. "Go find yourself some clothes."

Rosalie followed the direction of his finger and walked into the room. There was a large wardrobe inside. She opened it to find it filled with men's clothing, each piece far too large for her.

She picked out a white shirt, then took off her clothes and slipped the shirt on. His shirt was enormous, making her look like she was a child in an adult's clothes. After changing, Rosalie returned to the couch in the living room.

Vincent gave her a once-over, his gaze lingering on her for a long time. His eyes revealed a complex emotion, as if he were seeing another person through her. That girl had also worn his clothes.

Rosalie looked down at the oversized shirt on her and said softly, "Thank you for the shirt."

Vincent averted his gaze, a trace of sorrow passing through his eyes.

"How's your wound? You need to see a doctor," Rosalie said worriedly.

This was a gunshot wound-not something to be taken lightly. If not treated properly, it could be fatal.

couch, his voice cold. "You can go now. After you

opened a drawer, took out a gun, and tossed it to

gun as if it were a

get home safely,

night, a woman holding a gun was more useful than anything. Even if she were stark naked,

to use a gun. And if I just leave, are you going to be here alone? Will anyone come to take care of you?" Vincent frowned, clearly growing impatient. "Why do you

stood there uneasily, her head lowered. "I'm afraid you'll

"You're an interesting woman. Aren't

"You saved me."

those guys. I've killed more people than they ever have. If you

his eyes, Rosalie sighed softly and turned

was

quickly stepped forward, asking, "Are

her wrist. "Are you

anything I can do

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