Page 26 of Sing For Us

Interesting.

Noa nods at me, and I raise my hand.

Three.

Noa shifts his grip on the machete.

Two.

Sebastian continues pacing inside the room, his voice rising with every sentence.

One.

We move.

Noa bursts through the door, and it slams against the wall. I follow him into the room. Sebastian jerks upright behind an enormous mahogany desk. Shock flashes across his face. For a split second, he stares.

Then instinct takes over.

His hand darts toward the pistol lying on the desk.

“Duck, Noa!”

The rifle bucks against my shoulder and the bullet tears through Sebastian’s shoulder and spins him sideways with a scream. The pistol skids across the polished wood and disappears onto the floor. He crashes into a bookshelf, clutching the wound. I didn’t kill him, because this is Noa’s hit. Not mine.

Noa is already moving, and the desk scrapes violently across the floor as he kicks it aside. One second separates them.

Then none.

The machete stops inches from Sebastian’s stomach.

Every trace of confidence drains from his face.

"I can pay you," he stammers. "Whatever they're paying you, I'll double it. Triple it."

"No." And that one word from Noa makes Sebastian piss himself. Why do people always piss in these situations? They are the monsters. Not us.

The coward’s gaze snaps to mine, and recognition hits him. This is not a fucking negotiation. There is no amount of money capable of saving him. Sebastian opens his mouth again, probably to beg. Maybe to bargain. I never find out which because Noa is starting to execute his call-off sign.

“M was here.” And that does it. Noa slices Sebastian from his pelvis all the way through his throat, and he is screaming in agony. His body crumples to the floor, and he bleeds out after a couple of minutes. Noa carves an ‘M’ right above his heart. He stands up, and with that, the mission is done.

For a moment, neither Noa nor I move, and then we take off our masks. I should feel relief. I should run away and plan my next move on Noa, or I should kill him here. But I don’t do it. Instead, my attention drifts to the man standing beside me. To the blood splattered across his shirt. To the familiar shape of him. To the history between us that refuses to stay buried.

Sebastian was never the difficult part of tonight. Noa has always been the bigger problem. I don’t wait for his response and go downstairs. Because I am so distracted, I step onto a big piece of glass, which punctures my boots. Fuck, I should have worn sturdier footwear. I sit by the window and take off both boots. They are obstacles, so I remove them. I still have spares in my car. Noa comes downstairs and is standing five meters away from me.

His dark eyes meet mine. Neither of us looks away.

There is too much history between us.

Too much anger.

Too much betrayal.

Too much love that neither of us had managed to kill.

The realization sits heavy in my chest. This dynamic is more dangerous than the weapons strapped to either of us. I break eye contact first and check if I have stepped onto more glass.

Chapter eleven