I pulled one of the chairs away from the table and dragged it into the corner.
Erich dropped Reed to the floor and pulled out his pocketknife, cutting the rope binding his wrists and ankles together. Reed groaned as he stretched, then let out a muffled cry when Erich flipped him onto his back with his foot, pressing it into his stomach.
I stayed in the corner, gripping the back of the chair as I watched.
Erich lit a cigarette, shielding the flame with his hand. He took a slow drag, then removed his foot from Reed and crouched beside him, blowing smoke directly into his face.
Reed choked, twisting away, his face flushed beneath the tape, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes.
Then he looked at me.
Pleaded.
For a moment, doubt flickered.
The house pressed in around me, dragging memories up from places I thought I’d buried. My best memories—all of them—were tied to him.
My chest ached.
“You can change your mind.”
Erich’s voice cut through it cleanly.
I realized I was biting my nails, staring at Reed the way I had when I was younger—when I’d run to him instead of my mother.
Because it had always been him.
Until it wasn’t.
My gaze shifted to Erich. His gray eyes were steady, watching me—not pushing, not pulling. Waiting.
A tear slipped free. I shook my head.
No.
Reed whimpered again, and Erich crushed the cigarette into the carpet before crossing the room to me.
“You’re in control,” he said, pulling me against him. His lips brushed the top of my head. “This ends when you want it to.”
I leaned into him, breathing in the faint scent of smoke and something that was onlyhim. The tear disappeared into his shirt.
And I steadied.
I pulled away and walked back to Reed.
He tracked every step, panic rising in his eyes as I knelt beside him. I peeled the tape from his mouth in one sharp motion.
“Son of a—” he gasped, rolling onto his side.
“Any last words?” My voice sounded hollow, even to me.
But I knew what I wanted.
He had to die.
And I needed to be the one to do it.
“You can’t kill me,” he said hoarsely. “You love me.”
