Knox:
The shower stopped.
I looked up from the pistol I was cleaning on the nightstand. Took my time putting it back together. Barrel, spring, slide—click. Like therapy. Repetition. A ritual to keep my hands busy when my mind couldn’t settle.
Viv was still in the bathroom. I could hear the soft shuffle of her towel, the squeak of the tiles under her bare feet.
That girl—she didn’t run.
She burned.
She pulled the trigger on two men like she was born for it. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t beg. Didn’t even blink. Just bang, bang, clean. And then she walked out of that motel room with blood on her collarbone and a calm like she’d just paid the tab at a bar.
I kissed her for it.
Still tasted smoke and adrenaline when I think about it. Still feel the heat from her lips seared into mine.
She step
