Done Being a Lady. Time to Shoot. Full Episodes

Greyport still whispers her name — Rosa Moretti, the thirteen-year-old who killed without flinching, then vanished behind a decade of charity galas and lace gloves. Everyone assumed the Reaper was gone. Her fiancé assumed it. His "foster sister" assumed it. The families plotting her father's murder assumed it. They should have checked her closet. The black tactical gear was still folded. The gun still oiled. And Rosa Moretti was finally done pretending.

Greyport still whispers her name — Rosa Moretti, the thirteen-year-old who killed without flinching, then vanished behind a decade of charity galas and lace gloves. Everyone assumed the Reaper was gone. Her fiancé assumed it. His "foster sister" assumed it. The families plotting her father's murder assumed it. They should have checked her closet. The black tactical gear was still folded. The gun still oiled. And Rosa Moretti was finally done pretending.

Greyport still whispers her name — Rosa Moretti, the thirteen-year-old who killed without flinching, then vanished behind a decade of charity galas and lace gloves. Everyone assumed the Reaper was gone. Her fiancé assumed it. His "foster sister" assumed it. The families plotting her father's murder assumed it. They should have checked her closet. The black tactical gear was still folded. The gun still oiled. And Rosa Moretti was finally done pretending.

Greyport still whispers her name — Rosa Moretti, the thirteen-year-old who killed without flinching, then vanished behind a decade of charity galas and lace gloves. Everyone assumed the Reaper was gone. Her fiancé assumed it. His "foster sister" assumed it. The families plotting her father's murder assumed it. They should have checked her closet. The black tactical gear was still folded. The gun still oiled. And Rosa Moretti was finally done pretending.

Greyport still whispers her name — Rosa Moretti, the thirteen-year-old who killed without flinching, then vanished behind a decade of charity galas and lace gloves. Everyone assumed the Reaper was gone. Her fiancé assumed it. His "foster sister" assumed it. The families plotting her father's murder assumed it. They should have checked her closet. The black tactical gear was still folded. The gun still oiled. And Rosa Moretti was finally done pretending.

Greyport still whispers her name — Rosa Moretti, the thirteen-year-old who killed without flinching, then vanished behind a decade of charity galas and lace gloves. Everyone assumed the Reaper was gone. Her fiancé assumed it. His "foster sister" assumed it. The families plotting her father's murder assumed it. They should have checked her closet. The black tactical gear was still folded. The gun still oiled. And Rosa Moretti was finally done pretending.

Greyport still whispers her name — Rosa Moretti, the thirteen-year-old who killed without flinching, then vanished behind a decade of charity galas and lace gloves. Everyone assumed the Reaper was gone. Her fiancé assumed it. His "foster sister" assumed it. The families plotting her father's murder assumed it. They should have checked her closet. The black tactical gear was still folded. The gun still oiled. And Rosa Moretti was finally done pretending.

Greyport still whispers her name — Rosa Moretti, the thirteen-year-old who killed without flinching, then vanished behind a decade of charity galas and lace gloves. Everyone assumed the Reaper was gone. Her fiancé assumed it. His "foster sister" assumed it. The families plotting her father's murder assumed it. They should have checked her closet. The black tactical gear was still folded. The gun still oiled. And Rosa Moretti was finally done pretending.

Greyport still whispers her name — Rosa Moretti, the thirteen-year-old who killed without flinching, then vanished behind a decade of charity galas and lace gloves. Everyone assumed the Reaper was gone. Her fiancé assumed it. His "foster sister" assumed it. The families plotting her father's murder assumed it. They should have checked her closet. The black tactical gear was still folded. The gun still oiled. And Rosa Moretti was finally done pretending.

Greyport still whispers her name — Rosa Moretti, the thirteen-year-old who killed without flinching, then vanished behind a decade of charity galas and lace gloves. Everyone assumed the Reaper was gone. Her fiancé assumed it. His "foster sister" assumed it. The families plotting her father's murder assumed it. They should have checked her closet. The black tactical gear was still folded. The gun still oiled. And Rosa Moretti was finally done pretending.