Firsts had never been a thing to be celebrated. The bloody ones were just the first of many, and it was the culmination of training and ferocity that were admirable, not the start itself. And the tender ones, well...

Her first kiss was a man she was distracting so she could get the blaster from his belt and then rob him blind. Not exactly something to write home about. When she slept with someone, it was for access. When she killed, it was a necessity.

Love was never a question. Never a consideration. And then she met him, and it was more important than ever to remain detached.

Because if he let her, she would destroy him. And that--her own destruction, following--was a risk she couldn't take.