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Hot Sauce.

I brace myself for the spicy, airway-clearing burn. The smell strikes me as soon as I peel the lid off, that potent mix of spices and sweetness coming back to me.

I stick my nose in and inhale as deep as I can.

I recoil, but I hold it in. My vision clears and my head throbs, but that dizzy feeling fades, instantly replaced with a jarring alertness throughout my entire body.

I pour it onto my tongue, feeling the burning kick as I swallow the sauce. It rushes straight to my head and my body tingles from the throat down.

“Anna!”

I hear Trevor bounding down the stairs. I stand taller, keeping the cup of sauce clenched in my hand.

“Come on, Anna.” His voice sounds softer. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? Can we… can we talk about this?”

I don’t answer. I move on the tips of my toes from the kitchen to the dining room as he walks down the hallway.

“Anna…” He growls in frustration. “You don’t have to be such a fucking bitch about this!”

I move around behind him, taking the second way into the living room. If I can sneak past him, I can get back upstairs to my gun.

Breaking glass echoes down the hall from the kitchen and Trevor murmurs to himself. I take the opportunity to bolt for the stairs with my cup still cradled in my hands.

“Anna!”

My chest lurches, but I refuse to look back. I take the stairs as fast as I can. He gains on me at top speed. My head throbs with fear and panic, but the comforting scent of hot sauce gives me an idea.

I stop at the top of the stairs and spin around to face him. He doesn’t let up, racing at me two steps at a time.

I fling the rest of the sauce at him, spraying his wide-open eyes.

Trevor screams and cradles his head, falling backward as he tries to wipe the sauce away. I raise my foot and kick him as hard as I can in the chest. He loses his balance and falls, tumbling all the way to the bottom.

I twist around and rush to the bedroom. My gun sits in the corner where he threw it. I grab it and flick the safety off, ready to defend myself when he lunges at me again.

I ease for the doorway, focusing my hearing to stay a step ahead of him. I expect to hear him huffing and puffing in pain as he limps up the stairs, but it’s silence ahead of me.

I walk slowly into the hallway, and I hear his painful grunts down the stairs.

Trevor still lies there at the bottom. He tries to move his legs, but he shrieks in agony, unable to push himself up. He’s helpless and broken with puffy eyes and blood-covered cheeks.

I descend the stairs with my gun extended in front of me. “Trevor Rhys, you’re under arrest for the murder of Canon McGregor and Martin Wells.” My heart breaks, clinging to wishful thinking, “and the attempted murder of Jacob Tyler.”

He laughs, sounding strained and more deranged than before. “Just do it, Anna,” he says. “Shoot me. You know you want to. Just do it.”

I do want to. I trusted him. I thought he was one of the few people I could trust, but I was wrong. He betrayed me. He betrayed our badge. I don’t even understand why.

I lower my gun to my side. My ears perk to the sound of sirens heading in our direction. Vincent sent the cavalry. Possibly the National Guard and the Secret Service, too, knowing him…

“Murder is murder, Trevor.” I hold back tears. “Doesn’t matter how much you think he might deserve it. Also…” I shake my head with pity, “you’re not worth a bullet.”

Trevor leers at me for another moment before letting his head drop.

I go to the front door and step outside onto the porch.

A shot rings out behind me.

I spin around and look down my body, focusing my senses for pain that’s not there. My eyes swell with tears from panic, but confusion sets in. I wasn’t hit.