Right Hook (Gaslight series) COMPLETE

71| Bad choice

Alyssa ♔
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A metallic click breaks the silence.

"Don't move," Justin orders. It's not the authoritative tone you'd expect from someone waving a gun. It's hissed and desperate, a pitch too high to be considered controlled. 

It's panicked. 

"I won't," I say, raising my hands. My brain doesn't want to believe this. It's like I'm stuck in a nightmare, the same one I've been trapped in for weeks, only now I'm not sure if I'll ever wake up. "How did you get inside?"

He ignores my question and looks around. While his hood conceals most of his face, his eyes pierce through the shadows like two ice-blue slits. "Where's your mom?"

I consider lying and saying she's not here, but it could backfire. She'd be in trouble if she woke up or made a sound. We both would. "She's sleeping," I say. "She doesn't have anything to do with this. Whatever issue you have, it's with me."

He pushes closer, lowering his head until he's right in my face, revealing the dark circles under his eyes. "You think this is about you?" he hisses. "Your family screwed mine over, Liss. You fucking stole from us."

My fingers tremble, and I cautiously lower them, watching him stiffen at the movement. It's strange: I always thought my reaction to a situation like this would be different. I thought I'd plead for my life or wrestle for the gun, something proactive to save my life, but I do neither. Instead, I stand frozen, gazing into the ice-blue eyes of the man I once loved, wondering how we reached this point.

"Is that why you're here?" I ask. Breathe, Alyssa. Keep him talking. "Your dad sent you to scare us?"

He laughs, and I catch the distinct smell of alcohol on his breath. "Yeah, right. My dad thinks I'm the reason we're in this mess."

I don't want to speak anymore. Don't want to look at him. But the longer I keep him talking, the less likely he is to do something stupid. "Why?"

His eyes darken. "Because I'm the one who convinced him to give your dad a chance, thinking I was doing you a favor. Little did I know you'd turn right around and hook up with some lowlife." He straightens up, clearly done talking. "I know you have more money than your mom gave me, and I want it. Jewellery, cash, whatever you have."

I don't say anything. Instead, my eyes wander over the parts of him that are visible, starting from his fair blond hair and down to the ridiculously high cheekbones I've always envied. Unlike Max, who could easily pass for someone in his twenties, Justin looks precisely as he is.

A kid.

"We don't have anything," I say carefully. "We sold everything."

"You're lying." He suddenly advances toward me. The floorboards creak under his weight, a dissonant note in the eerie quiet. I can see the strain in the lines of his body, the tension in his shoulders. He's trapped in this nightmare as much as I am. "I'm not leaving without something."

"Justin." The word comes out in a whisper. "Look around you. Do you see anything here? It's all gone. My dad took what he needed and bailed. We have nothing left." There's a calmness to my voice that I didn't expect. This isn't some stranger breaking into my house; this is Justin. For all his faults, he's not a murderer. "You're scared for your family," I say. "I get it, but it's not too late to take this back. You haven't hurt anyone, Justin. You made a bad choice, but you can still walk away from it."

For a moment, I think I'm getting through to him. I think he'll lower the gun. Instead, he shuts down. "Not until I get the money you owe us."

I panic. All I want is to get him out of this house. "There's a painting in my room. It was supposed to be our insurance if we ever needed money. It's worth a few hundred thousand."