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Something flickers behind his eyes, and he wavers. I don’t know why, but somehow, that annoys me more than it probably should. I move into his space quickly, grabbing the gun in his hand and pulling it towards me. He lets go of it easily, the surprise clear on his face, but I don’t turn it on him.

Instead, I press the release, the magazine slipping out and falling to the floor. It lands with a loud clank, and he flinches a little, still glued to the door. I pull the slide all the way back, removing the stop hinge and throw the final pieces on the kitchen table before looking at him again.

“You were saying?”

“Rowan,” he tries again with that annoyingly calm voice of his.

I almost wish I hadn’t dismantled that gun and shot him in the head instead, but I have to be patient. I want to take my time with him, maybe make him beg me to show him mercy.

“Can we just talk about this?” he continues.

I smile. “Sure, let’s talk. Let’s talk about how you tried to trick me into telling you about Haze. Let’s talk about how you tried to fuck me over—again.”

His brow creases for a moment, then his jaw loosens, like he just realised something. “Wait. You know?”

“Of course, I know. The police raided Summit today. They had a warrant to search because someone told them about the girl and guess who the only other person who had that information is.”

Alex’s frown deepens, his mind working. I want him to confess. I want him to give me a reason to slit his throat and end this.

“Not to mention, Hayden saw you at Summit last night.”

His mouth falls open and something cracks inside me, realising Hayden was right. He was there.

He starts shaking his head, holding out his hands. “Wait, what? No, no,” he says. “You have it all wrong. I swear I didn’t tell—”

“Don’t lie to me,” I say. “Lying will only make this worse.”

He licks his lower lip, his eyes darting to the table where the gun lies in pieces. It’s only a split second, but I know what he’sgoing to do and when he tries to move past me, I grab him. He struggles, letting out a frustrated grunt against me, but it’s easy to overpower him. I push him forward, knocking him to the ground.

He lands on his stomach with a thud, and before he can get up, I kneel right next to him, running my hand through his silky black hair and pushing the side of his face down onto the cold hardwood tiles.

“Seriously, Rowan,” Alex struggles to get out, trying to move out of my grip. “I wouldn’t lie to–”

I strike the back of his head, completely knocking him out. “Yes, you would,” I mutter, releasing his hair and watching his eyes flutter close.

Alex’s apartment feels like a home, cluttered with plants, a half-finished vanilla candle, and shelves lined with books. I pick up a framed picture that sits beside his TV It’s a younger version of him and another girl. I run my thumb against the glass of the frame. I met Alex when he was only twenty-three, but he looks younger in this picture, maybe sixteen with fuller cheeks but the same eyes. I recognise the girl too, Halle—his foster sister. He never talked about her with me, but I know who she is. I look at her wild mess of curls and bright hazel eyes. She’s pretty enough, I guess.

Throwing the picture back on the TV stand, I glance back at Alex, who is now tied up to the kitchen chair with a tie I found in his closet. It’s blue silk, something someone would wear to a wedding or an office party. Something boring.

It’s a shame, I don’t think Alex is boring at all.

I make my way back to his kitchen, bypassing him in the chair and opening random cupboards and his refrigerator. It’s painfully normal in here, all the contents of a single man living alone. His alternative soy milk has expired though. I’m not surewhy, but I dump it into the sink before moving on to open a cabinet where I find an almost empty bag of cherry sour gummies.

Without wanting to, my mind plunges me into a memory from two years ago. We’re in a corner shop near my apartment and Alex is insisting we buy a family size pack of cherry sour jellies which he goes through that same night.

“That can’t be healthy,” I say.

“Who cares?” he laughs, throwing his arms around me and planting a kiss on my mouth.

Back then, I thought it was cute. Now my mouth just tastes bitter at the memory. I throw the packet back into the cabinet and close the door, leaning against the counter.

It takes a few more minutes before Alex begins to stir in his chair. He moans quietly, breathing heavily like he’s having a nightmare. I grab a chair and sit across from him, watching as his eyes flutter open, long eyelashes visible under the overhead lights.

He struggles against the restraints, the chair jumping and screeching with him. “What the hell, Rowan? Untie me now!” he shouts.

I smile. “You’ll disturb the neighbours if you keep doing that. Wouldn’t want a noise complaint.”

“Rowan, I swear to God—”