Should I call 911?
Absurd thoughts vanished as soon as they arrived. Like Kit’s subconscious wanted to act out a parody of normal reactions. But now, all he could think about was leaving.
Stomach twisting, Kit edged back into his bedroom. Grabbed his messenger bag from under the sink. Armed with all his worldly possessions—minus the shit strewn about that he wasn’t about to take the time to gather together—he returned to the bloody hallway.
He made it past the corpse without freaking out. Made it downstairs, though he had to stop halfway down, clutching the railing as dizziness struck him. Made it through the grungy living room and into the kitchen before he halted again.
Kit’s vision must be blurring with shock. Reflections of the dead man’s blood washed the world in red.
No. That wasmoreblood painting the floor. It wound like a river across the kitchen, dividing and rejoining in countless tributaries. The flow was fed by the mountains of bodies, slumped against cabinets and fallen from chairs. Uncle Ed, against the oven. Macaroni Jeff, with his brain smeared down the front of the fridge.
One man even sat upright at the kitchen table, propped up like—
No.
That wasn’t a corpse. That was a living man, sitting at the kitchen table, scrolling across his phone screen with gloved fingers.
Time seemed to dilate. Kit had far too much time to observe the man before his body would respond to his desperate signal to retreat.
The man at the table was handsome in profile. A strong nose, just a hint of scruff along his jaw. Maybe in his early thirties. White, with a light tan and touchably soft waves of brown hair. He wore a dark jacket, light jeans, and heavy duty boots.
A gun sat on the table in front of him.
Kit’s shoe squeaked faintly as he stepped back.
Still focused on his phone, the man at the table said, “James, I told you not to—” He met Kit’s eyes. “You’re not James,” he said calmly. In one fluid movement, his phone clattered to the table.
And his gun pointed directly at Kit’s head. The man clicked the safety off, and Kit swallowed.
Oh, shit.
The man’s eyes were a shocking bright blue. Kit focused stupidly on that fact, as if to protect him from the terror. His heart thudded painfully again, fear breaking through his familiar, numb haze.
Of fucking course. The first time in years Kit actually felt something, and it was knee-weakening terror.
“I’m not James,” Kit answered, sounding very distant. “I’m just going to leave you to this.”
Blue Eyes stood. He shifted his gun to a two-handed grip. Not the sort of man to sacrifice efficiency for style, clearly. “You’re not going anywhere,” he said, still perfectly calm. And then—
Nothing.
The man’s silence had a quality akin to impending thunder. An oppressive anticipation consuming the entire room.
Kit expected to die the next second. Instead, the moments stretched in endless limbo. Blue Eyes didn’t seem to be in a hurry to kill him. Maybe he was just toying with Kit. Giving Kit time to take in the rest of the scene.
He recognized a few of Uncle Ed’s friends among the bodies. Guys he bummed joints from in the drugged-out interludes between parties. Some guys he avoided. None of them were good people, but that didn’t make it any better seeing them crumpled and broken on the floor like this.
Kit’s attention flicked to Uncle Ed. The small, deep crater in his temple made his cause of death pretty clear. Same as the others. Same as Kit, depending on how the next few moments went.
Half a dozen bodies. Half a dozen headshots. If Blue Eyes was responsible, he was a damn good shot.
But most terrifying of all was the look of utter calm on Blue Eyes’ face. His piercing gaze seemed to cut right through Kit’s ragged exterior to the most damaged corners of his soul.
Finally, Blue Eyes said, “You’re not afraid.”
“I’m very afraid,” Kit said. Except he wasn’t sure that was true, anymore. His knees were still weak, his palms still cold. His heart still hammered too hard. But maybe those were just echoes. Maybe his fear was slipping away again, into whatever abyss entombed the rest of his emotions.
“Do you want to die?” Blue Eyes asked.
