Or maybe they do and it doesn’t matter.
Because this is bigger than me now.
Paul swings back, wild and unhinged, but he’s sloppy.
Slower.
Unfocused.
And Benji—Benji is not.
There’s something terrifying about him right now.
Something I’ve never seen before.
Cold.
Precise.
Relentless.
Like he’s locked onto one objective and nothing is going to stop him from seeing it through.
“Stay down!” Benji snarls, slamming Paul into the wall hard enough to rattle the art hanging behind him.
But Paul doesn’t stay down.
Of course he doesn’t.
Because he’s crazy.
Because he doesn’t think like a normal person.
Because he can’t.
He twists, scrambles, manages to get his hand back on the gun.
My blood runs cold.
“No—!”
He fires again.
The sound is louder this time.
Closer.
And everything in me stops.
“BENJI!”
The scream tears out of me, raw and broken and full of pure, gut-wrenching terror.
Benji jerks.
Just slightly.
But I see it.
