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He nearly takes my knife with him. It’s only because I pull my hand back with a quick lurch that he doesn’t manage to careen backward with the blade. The man falls in a heavy heap to the floor, panting, his hands coming up to flutter over his chest.

“Does it hurt?” I ask, staring down at him, not expecting an answer. He doesn’t give me one. He’s too busy mouthing words like help and bleeding, though nothing substantial ever makes it past his lips where blood bubbles up to dribble down his chin.

“No.” Adrien’s voice is sharp, and when I look towards him, I see that Ansel has grabbed the man who’d insulted me, knife ready to end it. He pauses at Adrien’s protest, and all of us look at him.

He, of course, doesn’t look up from the candy he’s unwrapping. “Let her do it.” the words are calm and casual, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world to say. But when Ansel makes a noise of protest, he pauses, looking up at my friend. “Let her do it,” he says calmly. “You want her to get her revenge. You want it to mean something to her. So let her do it.”

His eyes slide to mine, and he stares at me, daring me to argue. “Let her do it so she knows what it is to kill someone without an excuse. Let her find out if she can do it.”

I have an excuse, I almost say. And I’m not about to hesitate just because these men haven’t personally hurt me.

Ansel turns, holding the writhing, spitting man in his grip, presenting him to me like an unwilling offering. My steps take me closer to him, until I’m near enough to do it. All I have to do is lift my hand and drive the blade in. It should be easy. It should be quick, for the most part.

Yet when I lift the blade to press it to his throat, I pause. My hand locks in place, and my gaze unwillingly finds his. I stand there, frozen, uncertain why, as he begs and spits threats in turn, looking for the right combination of words that will get him out of this.

But I’ve come too far now. And he doesn’t deserve to live.

“You think I can’t?” I ask Adrien curiously, my eyes sliding sidelong to his. “Do you think I’ll freeze?”

He just shrugs. “Guess we’re finding out.” But there’s a challenge in his gaze, just as heavy as the unwavering support in Ronan’s eyes. His hand grips the knife at his side, and when he glances disapprovingly at Adrien, I know that if I ask, he’ll do this for me.

He’ll stop me from making this decision if he needs to. If I can’t.

The warmth and relief that floods me drains away a moment later. I can’t let him do that. Not now. Not tonight. I can’t let him be the real bad guy, when this is something that I’d insisted on doing. Finally, I look back at the man in front of me and watch his pathetic pleading. I watch and listen as he begs, absorbing every word to remember later.

It’s important that I remember this, too.

But just as he draws breath for another attempt, I press the blade a little tighter to his throat. Blood wells up, and in one thorough, committed movement, I drag the blade across his neck.

Blood spurts like a fountain from the wound, spraying my face, my hair, and my hoodie. The man sags in Ansel’s grip, then starts to writhe like a chicken when he’s dropped to the floor.

I don’t get the chance to kill the third man. Adrien steps forward and does it himself by slashing his knife against his neck just as the man starts to get up. He falls down as well, blood spraying in arcs just like my victim’s.

“I decided I was satisfied that you could do it,” he says cheerily. “And he was starting to sober up.” He watches my face to see if I’m mad, and I just give him a lopsided grin.

“Nah,” I drawl. “You’re just a bloodthirsty asshole. Don’t deny it.”

“Literally,” Ronan grumbles with a quick roll of his eyes. “Glad she has you figured out this quick, Adrien. Saves us the trouble later of convincing her how shitty of a human you are.”

Ansel mumbles his agreement, still watching the man bleed out at our feet.

The door opens behind me, and Adrien sits down with a sigh, legs brushing mine on the steps of the back deck. “You good?” he asks, handing me the plastic bucket of candy.

I snort but take it, eyeing him with a grin. “You’re a sugar addict,” I accuse.

He doesn’t deny it.

“And I’m fine. Just tired. I don’t know if you know this, but I’ve had a pretty long couple of days.” My fingers dip and dig through the candy, until I find a few packages of starburst that I steal before handing it back to him.

“No shit?” Adrien raises his brows and grins. “Man, I had no idea.”

I can’t help it. I shoulder him gently, already working open the plastic. “If I’d known cleanup was going to be this much work, maybe I would’ve decided to just throw them all in the ocean instead,” I complain.

“Sucks, doesn’t it? Can’t have fun without the responsibility after.” He’s already digging through the candy again, but when he doesn’t find what he wants, he sets it to the side. “Do they know?”

I don’t tense. I don’t even look up. “Know what?”

“Do they know this isn’t your first time killing someone?”