There's another laugh as Molotov advances on her, hips swinging as she walks.

"You'll come back," she taunts, waving her hand, "so do not think I am giving in to your pitiful bullshit tears. Why would I save a nasty little thief anyway? So you can backstab me later on, when it means more?"

Once she's within range, she presses the barrel back to Eponine's forehead, between the eyes, and leans down. "From what I hear, you didn't even love him," she murmurs, her voice silk wrapping around the barbed wire of her words. "He died for nothing, and now, so will you. And I will make sure that everyone knows exactly why you are dead, you human trashbin. Everyone will know that you have no dignity. No class. And no place in your shitty little void of a heart for a boy who died, really died, to save your life."

And that's when she fires the fourth bullet, a clean shot that's aimed to head directly through Eponine's brain.