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Juicy padded back inside his apartment, muttering to himself. He returned with the keys. “Now, don’t forget to bring these back. They’re very important.”

“You got it! Thanks, Juicy! Bye, Barkie!” Trev was already at his door, unlocking it as fast as he could. He dashed inside and then locked the door back behind him. It was time for the next part of his plan.

Grab the money and get the fuck out of here.

Trev rushed to his bedroom, throwing on a pair of jean shorts, his pink hoodie, and a pair of combat boots. He grabbed a hot pink butterfly knife from his bedside table to shove down in his boot. He’d worry about cleaning himself up later when he was somewhere safe. The chances that Jupiter and his gangster buddies knew where he lived were extremely high. He got a duffel bag out of his closet, packed some clothes, and then he went for the lockbox that held his money.

Thank fuck it was a combination lock.

He got his spare car key out of a drawer in the kitchen and was headed to the door when the knob jiggled.

Shit.

No, no, no.

Trev looked through the peephole.

Jupiter was here.

Trev dropped his bag and looked around, flinching as Jupiter banged on the door.

New plan.

He had to hide.

He slid the lockbox under the couch, his mind racing. The apartment was not a big place. There were not exactly any good spots to hide where Jupiter wouldn’t find him and then drag him right back.

Wait.

The coffin!

Trev opened it and then jumped right in. He slid down, grunting as he lay on top of his DVDs. It was extremely uncomfortable, but he was sure it was definitely not as uncomfortable as being shot would be. He had no idea if this would actually work, and he hoped it wasn’t some sort of grim foreshadowing.

He closed the lid, instantly surrounded by darkness. He hated how cramped it was, and it was harder to breathe. He clenched his hands into fists and tried to stay calm. He had to stay calm. He could do this. He had to fucking do this.

The knocking stopped.

Trev didn’t think that was a good sign.

He held his breath, straining to hear what Jupiter was doing.

There were some clicks, a thump, and then a gunshot. The door shook. Three more gunshots rang out in rapid succession, and the door crashed open.

Trev bit down on his lip to keep from screaming, his heart leaping into the back of his throat. It was pounding so hard that he was certain Jupiter could hear it, and he froze, terrified to make a single sound that might reveal his location. He didn’t even want to breathe.

Jupiter’s footsteps signaled his entry, and he stormed off, presumably toward Trev’s bedroom.

There was more noise—no doubt it was Jupiter tearing everything apart looking for him.

Trev grimaced when he realized he had left his duffel bag out in the middle of the floor, and no doubt Jupiter would take that as a sign that he hadn’t left the apartment yet.

Which meant he was probably going to keep looking for him.

And eventually check the fucking coffin.

Shit.

Trev stopped breathing when Jupiter’s footsteps approached, and he regretted hiding inside the coffin. He had nowhere to run if Jupiter opened it, but it wasn’t like he’d had any better options.