My mind races. How?
I clearly heard his voice when I slipped him the drug, and I kept my eyes on him from then on.
Except for when he went up the stairs first.
Fuck.
If this is a trap, I’m not waiting around to find out. My legs carry me toward the door in quick, silent steps.
The moment I grab the knob, a metal barrel is placed against my temple, and a gun clicks.
A deep, unfamiliar voice whispers in my ear, “It’s bad form to get a man excited and then leave. How about we fix that?”
2
GARETH
The reason I’ve kept my mask on for almost twenty-two years isn’t due to a coincidence.
Or a lack of observation by my parents, teachers, or any of the adults in my life.
It’s not an accident or something I’ve grown into.
It’s a conscious decision I made when I was younger, and I’ve done everything necessary to make sure the image stays in place.
Mostly because I plot ahead.
Wayahead.
I don’t move without having plans for all the variables in the equation.Multipleplans. So if one fails, I have several more to fall back on.
But tonight, I didn’t count on Yulian being substituted.
It’s not like him. Atall. If he’d figured out I roofied his drink, he would’ve faced me head-on and tried to bash my head in.
He’s not a coward, and he definitely loves using his fists.
So it’s not Yulian who’s behind this mishap. It’s the guy holding a gun to my temple, his chest emanating repulsive heat at my back.
He betternottouch me.
I consider opening the door and leaving anyway, but I only plan to die in my sixties, so being killed now would be getting in the way of that plan.
Letting my hand fall, I turn around in one swift movement and swing my knife, aiming at his throat.
A silenced shot pierces my ear and the knife flies from my hand. My wrist jerks and I let it rest at my side as drops of blood fall on the beige carpet.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Motherfucker shot the handle of the knife, and while the bullet didn’t hit me, it grazed me.
Pain throbs on the side of my hand, and I briefly close my eyes, trying not to get consumed with the pain. If I do, I’ll have this urge to inflict it ten times worse.
“Look what you’ve done.” Yulian’s imposter's deep voice rings out like a calm mock. “That wasn’t necessary, now, was it?”