Page 16 of Dark Reasons

He glowers, hunching closer—his breath tickles my cheek. "If you're going to battle me on every little thing, this won't work."

"I need to be the one who does it," I insist. "I can pay the twenty grand. Do we have a deal?" I ask, reaching for the pen.

Jamison drops it and the paper before I touch them; his fingers clutch my wrist, forcing my palm upward. He presses the gun into my skin and I gasp, recoiling from the cold metal. My reaction is instant—I can't control it. He watches me intently, taking in every small change in my features, my breathing, my pulse. "You don't have the heart for murder. We both know it."

Before I can stop the urge, I kick at his left knee. He swings easily out of reach. He continues the movement agilely, taking me to the tiled floor, pinning me on my stomach. His shoe crunches something by my hand—the pen. Wet ink tickles my skin.

Iris gasps. He's pushing the muzzle of the gun into the side of my head. "Your overconfidence will put you in a grave," he says darkly.

I can't see him, I can only see the underside of the front desk. Iris's chair is shifting, I think she's stood up, but she isn't coming to help. No one is.

I'm the only one who can get me what I want.

A white object blurs on the floor in front of me.

"Maybe I was wrong," he says above me. "Thinking about it now, letting you hire me was foolish. You can't follow directions, you can't control yourself. It's a waste."

It's not a waste... I won't let what happened to her go unanswered.

My fingers are numb, they can barely drag through the ink.

Everyone thinks I'm weak.

I scrape my nails blindly.

That's why she didn't ask me for help... why she handled everything alone.

Jamison said he'd help me. I know that comes with strings attached.

If it means getting my revenge?

I'll choke myself on those strings.

"Here," I wheeze. "I signed it."

Jamison eases the pressure of the gun on my skull. "What?"

Lifting the contract, I move it like a flag of surrender. Except it feels like a sign of victory... like I'm the one conquering him. The way he shoves off of me, clutching the paper, gaping at it with his mouth twisted up, floods me with satisfaction. "This..." he whispers. "I don't agree to your terms."

"I'll drain my bank account," I say, sitting up cross legged. I brush my hair from my face, knowing I'm leaving streaks of ink; my fingers are stained black. "And you'll make sure I'm the one draining every last speck of life from Caruso's body."

Iris muffles her surprised laugh. Her entire body is shaking from how entertained she is. Jamison doesn't look amused. He looks like he wants to use the gun on me for real.

"Iris," a voice says from the corner. I can't see inside, but at some point, the shadow door opened. "Make the contract official."

"I refuse!" Jamison snarls.

The mystery figure laughs gruffly. "A signed contract is unbreakable. Give her what she wants, it's done."

Iris takes the contract from Jamison, who holds it a second longer, not wanting to hand it over. I can see my sloppy excuse for a signature covering half the words. My feeble attempt to writeI get to kill Caruso.

Jamison glares as he towers over me. I'm on the floor at his feet, broke and dirty and drained.

But we both know I've won.

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