Chapter 10 · Try Eighteen

"Emma." Kyle's voice slid into her dead husband's register, soft and ruined. "Tell him what you did."

Emma's hand tightened on the doorframe. Mark was three feet away, gun still trained on Kyle, but his eyes flicked to her for half a second. That was all Kyle needed.

"Go on," Kyle said, and now it was his own voice again, flat and amused. "Tell him about the envelope. The one you didn't open."

Mark didn't lower the gun. "Emma. What's he talking about?"

She opened her mouth. Nothing came out. Her throat had gone dry, and the room felt too small, the air thick and greasy like the seconds before a thunderstorm.

Kyle leaned back against the kitchen counter, hands loose at his sides, completely unbothered by the barrel pointed at his chest. "She already knows how this ends, detective. You shoot me, or you don't. Either way, I reset. But her? She stays dead. Every single time."

"Shut up," Mark said.

"Seventeenth loop," Kyle continued, like Mark hadn't spoken. "She's made it this far exactly twice. Both times, you pulled the trigger. Both times, she bled out on that couch behind you while you were cuffing me.