Chapter 361

• After the phone call, Alex half-carried, half-dragged Chris through the front door, leaving a smeared red trail across the polished hardwood like some fucked-up crime-scene painting.
• Chris’s head lolled against Alex’s shoulder, blood soaking into Alex’s crisp shirt.
• I followed a few steps behind, fists clenched so hard my knuckles ached, the Glock still tucked in Alex’s waistband like a promise I wasn’t ready to break yet.