His lip curled. "You think you're clever, don't ya? You don't know what happened."
"No, I don't. That's why I'm asking."
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a bit of movement from Rowan. He was watching closely. Real close. His posture hadn't changed much, but the tension was all over him now. His eyes flicked between me and Marcus, and I could see how hard he was trying to stay still. He knew what I was doing and not to interrupt it.
Though the gun stayed pointed in my direction, it drifted down a bit. If I was honest, I didn't actually expect to get Marcus talking. But once he got started, he didn't stop. He couldn't resist the urge to control the story and justify himself.
"I tried to fix it. I didn't want things to go this way." He jabbed the air with the gun toward Rowan without looking at him. "He made me into the villain and turned everyone against me. Thenyoushowed up and made it worse."
I took a tiny, creeping step forward. He didn't notice.
"You came in like some kind of fuckin' saviour," hesnarled. "Puttin' ideas in his head. Tellin' him he was right. That I was unstable. You planted that! You made him turn on me!"
I moved again. A few inches closer. He still didn't see it.
I never said a word during his rant. I just let him fill the space with his own noise. Every time he started again, I used his distraction to get a little bit closer, always slow, always steady. I kept my shoulders loose, my hands up, and my eyes on him.
Not the gun. Not even Rowan. Him.
And he was too caught up in proving his point to realise how close I was getting.
His voice suddenly sharpened. "You didn't fix him. You just turned him against me. You made himscaredof me."
I kept my tone flat. "He was already scared."
That made him flinch. His ranting stuttered, and his expression cracked. "You're twistin' it. He lied to you. That's what he does. Healwaysplays the victim. You don't know the full story – "
"You put him in the hospital, Marcus."
His whole body locked up.
I didn't mean to interrupt him, but my mouth ran before I could stop it. His jaw locked. His fingers twitched on the gun. And for a split second, he went completely still.
"Shut up!!" He spun and turned the gun on Rowan.
I lunged and slammed into Marcus mid-turn, shoved his arm sideways just as the gun went off. The sound exploded in my ears. Rowan shouted, sharp and panicked, and for one sickening second, I thought he'd been hit.
But I didn't have time to look.
Marcus twisted to try to get free and get control of the weapon. I threw my weight into him, forcing the muzzle toward the ground. It fired into the dirt that time, though it came too close to my knee for comfort.
He was stronger than I expected. Desperation gave him speed and made him erratic. He clawed at me with his freehand, the other locked in a death grip on the gun. We grappled for what felt like a long time, but it couldn't have been more than a few seconds.
He slammed into me with his shoulder and nearly bucked me off. I managed to keep my grip on him, but when I lost my balance, we both tumbled to the ground.
Somehow – I don't even know how – I forced him onto his back. I pushed all of my weight onto him to keep him pinned, my arm pressing him down so he couldn't rear up on me. My other hand wrestled with his wrist, trying to pry the gun free.
He wouldn't let go, and he fought to get me off of him. I raised his arm and slammed it onto the pavement as hard as I could. The impact shuddered up my arm. He still held on, so I did it again. Harder. And again.
I heard something crack, and his whole body jerked. A choked, guttural sound caught in his throat as his fingers spasmed and the gun finally slipped loose.
He twisted and bucked to try to get me off of him, but I didn't let him go anywhere. The police couldn't be far away, and I intended to keep him still until they got here. His movements soon started to slow down, frantic in a way that said he knew he was losing.
Then I realised... His face was already red from the Farbgel, but it still didn't look right. It looked puffy, and his neck was straining under my weight. He wasn't just trying to fight me off anymore. He was struggling to breathe.
I hadn't meant to go for his neck. I just needed to make him stop struggling so I could get the gun away. As much as I hated him, I didn't want to choke him.
I pulled back fast and scrambled for the gun. My fingers closed around the grip, and I hurried away, breathing hard. Marcus was on his side now, wheezing and clutching at his throat as he tried to suck in air.
