Why does that sound so ridiculous?

“Yes, I want cake! Bring us the fucking coconut cake, asshole!”

I hear Dalton’s footsteps fade as he walks into the kitchen. Luke is staring at me like I’ve lost my mind.

“You got a problem?”

He shakes his head and opens his mouth to speak. Finally.

“There’s medication that can help you, Asa,” he says.

Medication?

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Luke glances at Sloan and then back at me. I hate it when he looks at her. It makes me want to rip his fucking eyes out and swallow them like my mother’s yellow pills.

“You’ve checked the lock on the door fifteen times in the last five minutes,” he says. “That isn’t normal behavior. But it can be controlled. Just like your father’s behavior could have been controlled.”

This is where I cut the fucker off. “Talk about my father again, Luke. I dare you.”

His eyes meet the gun that’s pointed straight at him now, but for some reason, he still doesn’t shut the fuck up.

“Did you know he was diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia when he was only twenty-seven? I read it in his file. He never took his meds, Asa, not even once. The things going on inside your head-they can stop. It can all stop. You don’t have to be like him.”

I stride across the room and press the fucking gun to his head. “I’m not like him! I’m nothing like him!”

Before I pull the trigger, Dalton beats on the door.

“How am I supposed to give you the cake?” Dalton yells.

Fuck. Good question.

I start to walk to the door, but the anticipation of coconut cake is ripped from me when I hear sirens. The sound is far off-maybe four or five streets over.

I still have time. If there was a fucking window in this bedroom, I could grab Sloan, shoot Luke and be out the window and to the car before they get here.

But motherfucking Dalton is standing in my way.

If he’s standing at the door holding a cake, that means he’s probably right…about…there.

I aim my gun and as soon as I fire it, something hard meets my back. I fall forward, my knees hit the floor and the gun flies out of my hands. I look behind me and Luke is standing over me, pulling his leg back to kick me in the face. I roll to the side and swipe my leg across the floor, knocking him off balance. He lands on his back.

He immediately starts trying to pull his legs through his arms so his hands will be cuffed in front of him rather than behind him. I sit up and reach for my gun, but Sloan jumps off the bed and lunges across the floor. Our hands reach the gun at the same time, but mine are more experienced and know where to grab it to get the better grip. Her hands fumble around mine until she’s aware that the gun is firmly planted back in my hand. I shove her away from me, back in the goddamn corner.

She hits the wall and scoots as far away from me as she can. By the time I get the gun pointed at Luke, the fucker somehow got his hands around to his front. He’s pulling himself to his feet, so I stay a step ahead and pull the fucking trigger. I watch as the flesh of his thigh explodes into tiny pieces.

Fuck, that looks like it hurt.

He’s on his knees.

His back slams against the wall. He’s wincing, pressing his hands against his wound. Dalton is beating on the door now. “Asa, open the fucking door or I’m shooting it open! Three…two…”

“If you open that door, they’re both dead!” I yell.

Dalton never makes it to one.

I look at Sloan and she’s huddled against the wall, hands over her ears, tears pouring out of her eyes. She’s staring at Luke, looking like she’s about to flip the fuck out. I need to get her out of here before she does. But the sirens are closer now. More than likely on this street.

Fuck.

Think, Asa. Think.

I smack my gun against my forehead three times. I can’t lose her. I can’t. If I’m arrested, I won’t be able to protect her. I won’t be able to touch her. She’ll fall for someone else’s lies. Maybe even Luke’s again.

She’s the only person who has ever loved me. I can’t lose her. I can’t.

I crawl over to her and try to grab her hands, but she keeps pulling away from me. I have to point the damn gun at her head just to get her to be still. I press my forehead to the side of her head. “Tell me you love me, Sloan.” She’s shaking so hard, she can’t even speak. “Please, baby. I need to hear you say it.”

She tries three times to get her voice to work, but she keeps stuttering. Her lips are trembling harder than I’ve ever seen. She finally gets out one sentence. “Let Luke go and I’ll say it.”

I squeeze my hand around the gun. I wrap my other hand in her hair and squeeze. She’s trying to fucking negotiate for him?

I blow out a steady breath through my nostrils. My jaw is wound up too tight to let any air through my mouth. When I calm myself enough to speak, I grit my teeth and whisper, “You love me, right? You don’t love him. You love me.”

I pull back and meet her petrified eyes. She lifts her chin and says, “I’ll answer that after you let him go. He needs a doctor, Asa.”

A doctor? He doesn’t need a doctor. He needs a mother fucking miracle.

“I don’t need you to answer that,” I say to her. “I have a feeling if I kill him, I’ll be able to tell if you love him based on your reaction.”

Her eyes widen and she immediately begins shaking her head. “I don’t,” she blurts out. “Please don’t kill him, it’ll make things worse for you. I love you, Asa. Please don’t kill anyone else.”

I’m staring right at her, looking back and forth between her eyes. It’s hard to see any truth there, because all I see is the concern she has for Luke written across her face. “Don’t worry, Sloan. He’s probably wearing a bullet-proof vest.”

I turn my head and lift my gun, aiming it straight at Luke’s chest. I fire the shot. Luke’s whole body jerks against the wall. His hands go to his chest just as the blood begins pouring through his fingers. He immediately falls limp onto his side.

“Oh. My bad. I was wrong.”

Sloan is screaming. Screaming his fucking name, screaming no, screaming what have you done, screaming his name again, screaming, screaming, screaming.

She’s fucking screaming.

She has fucking tears.

For him.

I grab her by the goddamn arms and pick her up, dropping her back down on the bed. I straddle her while she covers her head and screams even louder, the tears flooding down her face.

“Why are you fucking screaming, Sloan? WHY?!”

I can hear my father’s voice repeating whore, whore, whore. I smack my forehead to get it to stop.

Stop, stop, stop.

She doesn’t love him. She loves me. Forever.

“You don’t love him, Sloan,” I say, my face twisting in pain. “You don’t, he brainwashed you.” I grab her cheeks and press my lips to hers. She’s trying to pull away from me, trying to fight me.

“Yes I do!” she screams. “I love him, I hate you, I love him, I fucking hate you!”

She’s going to regret this. She’s going to regret this more than she’s ever regretted anything in her whole fucking worthless life. If she thinks she’s sad now watching that bastard die, wait until she sees me die.

She barely knew the guy. She’s loved me for two fucking years! My death would fucking devastate her. She’ll be crying so hard, she won’t have enough air to say she hates anyone.

Whore, whore whore.

I smack my hand against my forehead again and then I press my forehead to hers. She’s no longer screaming now. She’s just sobbing uncontrollably.

“You’re going to regret this, Sloan. You think you’re crying hard now? When I die, it’ll fucking kill you. It. Will. Fucking. Kill. You.”

She shakes her head back and forth, sobbing through her words. “It’s too late to kill me, Asa. You killed me a long fucking time ago.”

She’s delusional.