Page 276 of Chameleon Killer

The angle.

The moment.

My whole world contracted to what I could see, what I could reach, and what I could do before Brewster decided for all three of us.

“You don’t want to do this.”

“Stop talking.” Anger shredded the words. But beneath it was something else. Something that didn’t belong there.

Grief?

Was Brewster actually grieving?

“I thought you liked it when I talked.” I kept my voice light. Almost teasing. Reached deliberately for the cadence we’d shared in the safe house, when irritating him had been a game and neither of us had known where any of this would end.

His arm tightened across me.

“Mallory.” My name vibrated low in his throat, half warning, half plea, wrapped in a growl he barely managed to contain.

For one dangerous heartbeat, he sounded like the Elliot I remembered and that just seemed so much worse.

“I’m serious. You’ve complained about me not answering questions for weeks.”

Simon hadn’t moved. “Let her go.”

A smile twisted Brewster’s mouth. Hollow. Cold. Yet satisfaction warmed his voice. “Now you care.”

“Yes.”

No hesitation. No denial. Simon gave him the answer cleanly.

Brewster’s smile faltered. “You’re supposed to deny it.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s what you do.”

“No.” Simon didn’t so much as blink. “That’s what you decided I do.”

The gun dug harder beneath my jaw.

I swallowed carefully.

Simon focused on me and his eyes changed, then he lifted his gaze back to Brewster. “Elliot,” he said. His voice was quiet, almost gentle. “You wanted me here.”

“Yes.”

“You have me.”

“Yes.”

“So let her go.”

“No.”

That surprised all three of us. Maybe Brewster most of all. Because if he let me go, what did he have left?

Simon seemed to understand at the same moment. “This was never about arresting me.”