“Doesn’t look like it.”
“Have you killed people before?”
He nodded.
“How many?”
“Too many. Stop with the fucking questions.”
“So what happens now?”
He was exasperated with me – I could tell – but he answered the question anyway. “I’m going to take you out of town. I have to get rid of all of the people who knew you were a hit.”
I blinked, mind reeling over what he’d just said. “Out of town? What do you mean ‘get rid of’?” I pulled my arm out of his grasp to put my hand to my head. “I’m going to be sick.”
He got to his feet. “Not in my kitchen, you aren’t.”
“Yes,” I choked.
He swept me off of the table, guiding me to the bathroom. I sank to my knees in front of the toilet, clutching the sides of the seat as I vomited into the bowl. The last thing I wanted to do was be on a stranger’s floor, getting intimate with his shitter, but I didn’t feel like it was the worst part of my day, so far.
He surprised me when I felt his hands brush my hair back, holding it out of the way as I heaved again.
“Done?” he asked, and he sounded so impatient that I wanted to kick him.
“I… think so,” I panted, leaning back as I swiped at the handle to flush.
He opened the cabinet and withdrew a washcloth, wetting it with cool water before handing it to me. Then he squatted down on the floor next to me.
“I need you to understand how serious this is,” he said, and I hated how he was talking to me like a child.
“Yeah, I think I can grasp that having people want to kill me is pretty serious.”
He seemed surprised by my response, and I swear he almost smiled. “There are a dozen, maybe fewer, people who know you are a mark.”
“You’re going to kill twelve people?”
“Yes.”
“You can’t do that.”
Halo regarded me for a moment and then got up from his place on the floor. He disappeared again, and I struggled to get up to follow him. I barely caught sight of him disappearing around the corner, still weak from vomiting as I tried to catch up. He spun suddenly, so fast that it was hard for me to comprehend what was happening. He had me like we were in the alleyway again, my back to his chest, except this time he only had one arm around me, holding me right around the neck. A cold, metallic pressure pressed to the side of my skull, and I realized it was the barrel of a handgun. Before he even spoke, I could feel his even breath on my ear.
His voice was low and quiet, too calm for what he was doing. “It’s you or them. That’s the choice. I need to know what you think is more important.”
I couldn’t breathe or think past the sound of my heart in my ears. Self-preservation should have been the first thing on my mind, but I couldn’t make myself think that way. My life wasn’t worth more than one other person’s life, let alone a dozen.
“The easy thing is to kill you right now,” he said, his grip unshaking. “End it. That’s what I was supposed to do.”
My voice trembled, but it came out steady, “I don’t think my life is worth the lives of twelve people.”
That gave him pause.
I swallowed hard. “So you do whatever you think is best.”
Silence stretched. The barrel stayed against my temple, but his finger didn’t move on the trigger.
I turned my head just slightly at his hesitation, and although his hand stayed on my neck, he let me make the movement. I saw it, just for a second: that war behind his eyes.
