She empties the magazine. The slide locks back. Smoke drifts from the barrel, smelling of sulfur and burnt powder. It’s the scent of violence.
She lowers the gun, her chest heaving. She turns to look at me.
Her eyes are wide, pupils dilated. Her cheeks are flushed with adrenaline. She looks alive. She looks terrifying.
"How did that feel?" I ask quietly.
She looks at the gun in her hand, then back at me.
"Powerful," she whispers. The admission seems to scare her more than the gun.
"Good."
I take the gun from her. I eject the empty magazine and slam a fresh one in. I rack the slide.
I hold the gun out to her, handle first.
"Take it."
She takes it. She’s more confident this time. The weight is familiar.
Then, she does something I didn't expect.
She turns. She raises the gun.
And she points it at the center of my chest.
The world stops.
The muzzle is a black eye staring straight at my heart. Her finger is on the trigger. Her hands are shaking, but her aim is true.
Silence descends on the clearing. The wind stops. The birds stop.
I look at her. I look at the woman I kidnapped, the woman I forced into marriage, the woman I humiliated at dinner. She has every reason to pull that trigger. She has every reason to end me right here, bury me in the woods, and take the keys to the car.
My heart hammers a slow, heavy rhythm.Thud. Thud. Thud.
I don't feel fear.
I feel... pride.
"Do it," I whisper.
Her breath catches. "I could kill you."
"You could," I agree. "I’m right here. No guards. No witnesses. Just you, me, and the bullet."
I take a step toward her.
The gun doesn't waver.
"Stay back," she warns, her voice trembling.
"Why?" I take another step. The barrel is now inches from my chest. "You want to be free, don't you? This is your chance, Ivy. The only way out of the cage is over the keeper’s dead body."
I step right up to her. I press my chest against the muzzle of the gun. I can feel the heat of the barrel through my shirt, right over my heart.
"Pull the trigger," I dare her. "End it."
