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Now it was time to put her game head on and say fuck you to Mattia Esposito…

And try not to cry while she did it.

* * *

The five bullets Mattia had taken out of the box were on the table.

It made him feel sick to look at them.

Thinking of what was coming for them made him feel sick.

Movement closing in on the living room made him tense, and when Elvira crossed the threshold, he closed his eyes a moment before turning to face her.

The silver eyes that locked onto his were without emotion. She looked pale but composed. He thought he probably looked similar.

She clocked the bullets and looked back at him. Digging into her jeans pocket, she pulled out the small cream bullet she’d shot at the pillow.

In silence, Mattia filled the chamber of his gun with his silver bullets. Elvira added her one bullet to the one already contained in it.

He should be grateful she only had two bullets. She was quick, and her aim was incredible. Just because she’d been unable to shoot him before didn’t mean anything. Very soon, adrenaline would kick in, and all bets would be off.

He checked his watch and almost smiled to notice she did the same.

He’d never known time could move so slowly.

“I’m going to make coffee,” he said. “Want one?”

She shook her head. She’d refused food earlier too.

Since they’d left the bed, they’d barely spoken. Forcibly polite questions asked, with one-syllable polite answers given.

The spell they’d been caught in had broken. Now, all he could feel was an impending sense of doom.

In the kitchen, he was fixing the coffee when he felt rather than heard her appear in the doorway.

“You’re getting good at that,” she said, a strange monotone in her voice.

He cleared his throat before answering. “Practice makes perfect.”

“I watched you make yourself coffee in that shithole and wondered how you could drink it.”

“I needed the caffeine.”

“The kit you used looked old.”

“It is old. I bought it when I bought the apartment.”

“Why did you buy it?”

“No apartment would be complete without a coffee maker.”

“I meant the apartment. Why did you buy that?”

The intimacy of what they’d been sharing only hours ago meant he would have answered her without thinking twice about it, but those hours were over. However deep the gut punch, whatever they’d shared in the bedroom was over. He was Mattia Esposito, she was Elvira Ranieri, and soon, very soon, the endgame would play out.

“I don’t remember,” he said shortly.

“Sure you do.”