The rope tightened. The rough hemp bit into Marissa's skin, burning like a ring of fire around her neck. Her breath was cut off, her lungs screaming for air that wouldn't come. Black spots danced in her vision, growing larger, threatening to swallow the world.
She clawed at the assassin's hands, but his grip was iron. He was stronger, heavier, and determined to finish the job.
And then, she started laughing.
It was a choked, horrible, wheezing sound. It wasn't humor. It was the sound of disbelief.
The assassin frowned, his eyes narrowing above his mask. Why was she laughing? Was she mad?
Marissa's thoughts raced, frantic and clear, even as the darkness closed in.
"Will I die again?" she thought, the memory of the fire in her past life flashing before her eyes. "Will I suffocate? Is this my fate, to always die just as I start to live?"
