The door opens, and he reaches for me.
I scramble backward, but there’s nowhere to go.
He pulls a gun from his holster.
“Make this easy on both of us.”
“Please… no… please.”
Tears spill hot and fast down my cheeks, blurring everything: his face, the barrel pointed at me, the world. My body’s shaking so hard it feels like it’s not mine anymore.
But Rodriguez doesn’t care.
His lips twitch at the corners, a slow, greasy smile curving up like this is his favorite part. Like heenjoyswatching women beg.
I close my eyes.
Think of Grandma. Of her yellow kitchen and the way she hums when she makes cookies. Of Jasper and his terrible dating stories. Of the life I’m never going to have.
The gunshot is impossibly loud.
But I’m not dead.
I open my eyes.
Officer Rodriguez is on the ground, a hole just above his cheekbone, blood leaking into the dirt in slow, thick streams.
And standing ten feet away, gun still smoking, ishim.
Green Eyes.
He’s wearing all black, like he materialized from the shadows. His expression is cold, clinical, like he just swatted a fly instead of killing a man.
“You done running now?” he asks.
I stare at him. At the dead cop. At the impossible fact that I’m still breathing.
“How did you—?”
The words collapse in my throat. My chest heaves. Tears stream down without permission, blurring my vision again. My whole body’s shaking—hard. Violent. Like the terror’s still stuck in my muscles, trying to claw its way out. I can’t catch a full breath. I don’t even know if I’m awake. This feels like a dream. A nightmare. A glitch in reality where men get shot in the face, and I’m left behind to witness it.
I look at the body again—Rodriguez. His head is twisted unnaturally, one eye still open, his badge catching the moonlight like some sick joke.
He killed a cop.
He fucking killed a cop.
And I’m still here.
“I’ve been following you since you left the building.” He walks over, checks Rodriguez’s pulse out of habit, then looks at me. “You really thought you could disappear in this city without me knowing where you were?”
“I didn’t— I mean—”
“You went to the police.” It’s not a question. “Let me guess. Helpful officer offered to take you somewhere safe?”
I nod, still in shock.
“And you believed him.”
