I narrowed my eyes. “What?”
“It’ll be too loud.” She frowned and looked around. “We’re in the middle of the suburbs, right? They’ll find you.”
I cursed softly. She was right. Folks around here weren’t used to gunshots—they’d call the police right away, and I’d be caught out in the open. At least in the city we had safehouses scattered all over the place where we could lie low for a while.
“We’ve got no other choice.” I held the gun closer to him.
“Look at him, we can just, we can let him die, right?”
“No, we can’t.” I knew what she was doing, but I couldn’t let her talk me to of this. “I’m sorry, Cora. If you don’t want to watch, leave the room.”
“Reid—”
“This is necessary and you know it. You heard Hedeon. You know what happens if I don’t do it.”
“Listen to him,” Jarvis said, “put me out of my misery.”
Cora flinched. “I can’t watch.”
“Then go into the hall.”
She took a sharp breath then turned away. “I hate this. You know that?”
“I know,” I said. “But sometimes, violence is a mercy. Sometimes, it can’t be avoided.”
Jarvis’s smile sent a chill down my spine. Cora walked out into the hall, and once she was gone, I pulled the trigger.
No talking, no final words. One second alive, the next second dead. His blood splattered across the couch and the wall behind him.
I shoved my gun away and walked fast into the hall. I grabbed Cora by the arm and we hurried away. I didn’t hear any doors open, which was good. Maybe everyone thought it was a firework, or someone’s TV. We reached the stairwell, reached ground level, and made it out to the parking lot.
Once we were in the car and on the road back into the city, Cora turned to me, her eyes wet and glistening. “I know you had to do that. I just wish you didn’t have to.”
I gripped the wheel. “Sometimes I do too. But that’s not our life.”
She nodded, turned to the window, and went silent.
The drive back to the city was scenic—trees, nice houses, people walking through the little Glenside downtown. We didn’t speak. There was nothing to say. Jarvis was dead, and I could finally breathe.18CoraThe house felt strained after Reid killed Jarvis, but at least the police never came knocking, and at least I could stop feeling like someone might break into the house at any moment and cut my throat.
I dreamed of Jarvis, his melted face laughing, the sound of the gunshot, the blank expression in Reid’s eyes as he tucked the gun away and took my arm. I wanted to hate him for what he did, but even in my dreams I couldn’t manage to find the anger that used to fill me. It was like talking about Alex out loud had released something from my chest, something that had been blocking me up for so long, and now I could see that what Reid did was necessary—even if it was horrible.
We slept in separate beds that night. The joy, the unbridled passion of the last few days, it was all gone, sucked away. I wanted to get it back—I still felt it, deep inside—but we seemed to both know that we needed a night apart to sort through our feelings.
He went to work the next day and I lounged around the house trying not to think about the dream or about the sound of that gunshot. Jarvis was dead and that was a good thing. He wasn’t suffering anymore, and he couldn’t cause us problems—and the city wasn’t going to break down into anarchy and violence. Order had been restored.
But I still couldn’t seem to settle myself down, no matter how many times I tried to rationalize it in my head.
As I stared at the television, trying to distract myself with episodes of 90 Day Fiancé, I heard several car doors slam shut outside. I didn’t think much of it until a shadow fell across the front door’s small upper windows, and a loud, pounding knock resonated through the living room.
I sat up straight, heart racing, sweat beading under my arms. My panic reaction started instantly.
That wasn’t a friendly knock. That wasn’t the kind of knock from a delivery guy, or a friendly political canvasser, or someone looking to talk about Jesus—that was an angry pounding.
I knew I should run. I could’ve gotten up and run out the back, jumped the fence, and tried to get away on foot, and maybe I would’ve made it, but something drew me back toward that door. I got up and drift over to it as another pounding knock slammed into my skull—and someone called my name.
I recognized the voice, knew it instantly. I felt a pulse of something freezing cold ice through my feet. I took another step, sucked in a breath, and opened the door.