Tick-tock.
The collision of our bodies could not be further from the erotic dance we performed so perfectly over the past few days.
My hands ache, but neither of us is willing to yield.
We only stop when I manage to reach for the small dagger I always carry, while he draws his gun.
He pins me to the floor beneath the weight of his body and aims at me with his right hand.
I lock my legs around his waist, keeping him close enough for me to plunge the blade into his abdomen.
Our breathing accelerates, and our gazes deepen within a strange rush of adrenaline that seems to freeze time.
I remember the slow passage of seconds while Dante mutilated his victims.
Tick-tock.
And now we are both promising each other certain death, though I still do not know the reason.
Time resumes its cours
