Page 108 of The Love Interest

The Bolt Glove activates again. Craike spasms and falls limply to the desk, right onto the gun.Thank you, Juliet.I push him up and grab the gun with my free hand. I aim it at him. My finger twitches on the trigger. If I pull it now his head will explode.

He groans and looks up at me, his eyes opening groggily.

I press the gun to the side of his temple. “Open the front door.” I jab it in harder. “Now!”

“As you wish.”

Craike stands up and opens his computer. I walk around the desk, keeping the gun aimed at his heart.

“You know you’re on camera,” he says. “I’d say you have about a minute before guards flood in and riddle you with bullets.”

“What’s that thing you told me once about actors? I don’t believe you. There’s no way you’d have cameras in your private office. Now open the door or I’ll shoot.”

He taps on the keys. A box in the corner of the screen shows security camera footage of the front door opening, revealing the bunker. I step forward and zap Craike again. He falls face-first to the desk and lies still. I place the gun down, then retrieve my phone from my pocket and start texting.

Juliet. It’s open. Password 2484972. Hurry.

On our way.

I put the phone back in my pocket and aim the gun at Craike. Even though he looks passed out, I know better than anyone that appearances can be deceiving.

I check the gun and see that it’s loaded, but it contains only one bullet. Carefully, I try to open his drawers to look for more ammunition, but they’re all locked. A quick scan of his bookshelf doesn’t reveal anything that could house bullets. So I have one shot. I’d better make it count.

I glance at the computer. On the camera feed, I see my four friends sprinting past the jet. They reach the elevator. Juliet punches the code into the keypad. Come on… Yes! The doors open.

Craike is stirring. His face is pale and one side is smeared with blood, yet he’s grinning a massive grin.

“You brought them to me.” He laughs. “Thank you for that.”

I jab the gun into his temple. “Tell me where the Stalkers are kept.”

He continues laughing, high-pitched and maniacal. Slowly, he pushes himself off the desk and stands up.

“Sit down,” I growl.

He squares his shoulders, and his eyes meet mine. “You aren’t going to shoot me. You’re just a Love Interest.”

“No, I’m not.” I lower the gun and aim it at his right kneecap.

Even though I’ve been through hell, even though I’ve been told I’m worthless my whole life, even though I’m gay, even though the world wants me to bow down and accept that who I am makes me insignificant, the following is true:

“I’m the protagonist, fucker!”

I pull the trigger.

A burst of red blood darkens his slacks, and he drops. It was the perfect protagonist move. It was violent, sure, but Craike will survive, so I don’t have a death attributed to me. I’m the hero because I only hurt him when he would’ve killed me. He will recover from this wound, which means I will as well.

I run my fingers through his shiny hair then make a fist. I yank his head upward. “Tell me where they’re kept or I’ll kill you. I’ll do it. You always thought you could see through me, Craike. Well, am I acting now? Am I?”

He grinds his teeth together. “Fine,” he spits. “They’re kept on level ten. Good luck getting there in one piece.”

I slide my hand into his pocket and pull out two crumpled tissues and his wallet. I pull the key card from the wallet, then drop it and the tissues. They land beside his head.

I lift up my shirt and scrub my face with it, mopping up blood until my skin feels raw and clean. I hang on to the gun, even though I’m out of bullets. If I’m convincing enough, anyone I come up against will automatically assume it’s loaded. I head out into the hallway. Thankfully, it’s still empty. I sprint toward the elevator. The plastic card sticks to my damp palm.

The elevator beeps and the door opens. Inside are Natalie, Trev, Dyl, and Juliet. They all look pale and sweaty.

Trevor blurts out, “This place is so trippy!”