Chapter 23 · You Owe Me

The gun was heavy. His heartbeat was heavier.

I felt every thump through the barrel, right up into my wrist. Slow. Disgustingly steady. Like he'd already made peace with dying on this basement floor.

"Say it again," I said.

"I was driving." Dominic didn't blink. The fabric of his shirt was hot against my knuckles. "Pull it, Mara."

My finger tightened on the trigger. One squeeze and twelve years of lies would turn into a loud, wet mess on the wall.

The dehumidifier buzzed in the corner. The green desk lamp threw sickly shadows across his jaw, carving out the dark hollows under his eyes. On the desk, right on top of my father’s ledger, sat the bent key. The Castellane crest was crushed flat.

I couldn't look away from it.

"You said a truck," I told him, my voice raspy and mean. "No lights. Tell me about the truck."

"I already told you."

"Tell me slower."

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. "Quarry Road. Dead of night, no moon.