Sam let out a long exhale, and it was only after an intake of breath failed to follow that Lara realized that had been her friend’s last breath. She choked, as if her body wanted to shut down together with Sam’s and block the life-sustaining gas from entering her lungs because if Sam didn’t get to breathe, why should she?

But a breath forced its way through her tightened throat. A lonely breath. Just one, where moments ago there were two. In Sam’s palm sat a candy, fingers curled like an altar around it. Between Lara’s fingers rested the bottle of pills. She spilled a few in her hand and observed them. White, round, deadly. Death was all around her, flirting with her.

She should feel worse than this. She should be crying, screaming, sobbing. Not… whatever this was. Certainly not relieved. The guilt gnawed away at her stomach. Witnessing the cancer wear Sam down one day after the other, the way her friend had become a mere shadow of her former self… it wasn’t any better than this.

Yes, it would have been selfish to grab on to Sam, but now Lara was completely and utterly alone in this world and she didn’t know what to do with herself.

A movement caught her eye, and Lara’s head turned to be met with one black eye staring at her, tempting her. She looked up from the gun and found a pair of green eyes, filled with determination and pity. Lara didn’t know what hers looked like right now, if they even looked like anything.

A spark of anger flashed, the last embers of a dying fire. It went out in a flicker as the gun’s muzzle drooped and the intruder holstered it to her hip.

“The Don wants you.”

With the immediate threat gone, Lara’s gaze fell on the pills in her hand. Her eyes flickered between the white against her desert sand skin and the pink against Sam’s ashen palm.

“There’s drinks in the living room, give me a moment.”

The voice that spoke wasn’t hers. Thick, hoarse, croaky. The vocal equivalent of television static. But the sound came from her lips, and the words were the ones she wished to speak.

Footsteps walked out of the room.

Lara put the pills back inside, screwed the cap on and placed the bottle on the nightstand. Then she took the candy from Sam’s hand and shoved it in her pocket. Her skin was already cold and Lara found herself cupping Sam’s hand between both of hers, crouching towards the bed to press her forehead against the stiff fingers.

“I don’t know if I can do this, Sam,” she murmured, closing her eyes. She squeezed her hand, breathed against it, but Sam’s skin wasn’t getting any warmer. The coldness was diffusing to her instead.

A single tear slid down her cheek, and she straightened her back, adjusting Sam’s arm back besides her, in a comfortable position.

But Sam was gone, and this was just a body now.

Everything after was a mechanical movement, one task after the next.

Sit up, cover Sam’s body.

Pause.

Bring the chair over to the desk.

Another pause.

Lara stood in the middle of the room and looked around, lost. Then she remembered. She had to deal with the woman with the gun.

With one last look towards the bed, Lara turned and walked away. There was nothing left for her here, and she already knew she would never be coming back, no matter how today ended. Her heart grew heavier with each step. By the time she reached the threshold, the thread linking her to this place snapped loose and left a bleeding wound in its stead.

She closed the door behind her and found the stranger leaning against the wall. Was this Bryn, the one Audrey talked about?

Walking directly to the living room couch, Lara sat down and slumped her head into her hands, sliding her fingers through her hair and allowing the auburn curls to fall around them. The grip they held barely contained their shake. She took a deep breath, but there was no space to receive it, like a rock had taken residence in her chest and blocked her lungs from expanding for more than a shallow gulp.

Compose yourself.

Lara straightened her back, gripped the couch’s edge, looked at Bryn who stood a couple of feet from her. Her vision slipped in and out of focus, as if she was just under the water’s surface and something was pulling her down, wanting to drown her in the cold abyss of the ocean. The fight to keep her gaze from glazing over wrung out her vital energy, drop by drop. Was there enough to allow her to function until she’d be safe?

“How much is he paying you? I’ll top his offer,” she said, forcing out every word.

Did it even matter?

“I...” Bryn blinked. “You wouldn’t be able to match it.”

That was likely true. What point was there to argue? Had Audrey not stolen from her... Lara’s gaze shifted out of focus again, and anything she might’ve wanted to say, or think, was lost.

A voice dragged her back to the surface this time. Bryn. Right.

“He knows you didn’t steal the drugs. Audrey confessed herself.”

She should’ve been more scared, but she couldn’t bring herself to feel much of anything. Bryn looked at her like… did the woman say something else?

She couldn’t afford to be like this, not now. She promised.

Lara forced a few more waterlogged embers to reignite, fingers digging into the couch’s edge as if it held the gasoline she needed to function. She cared about Audrey, or at least she used to.

“Is she... what did he do to her?”

You’re dead to me. That was what Lara had told her, just a few hours ago.

“She’s alive,” Bryn said.

A breath Lara didn’t know she was holding escaped. Okay. That was something.

Then a dead beat followed, along with a flat, half note of wind coming from an open window.

“He made her give up two fingers.” Bryn swallowed and let the words hang for a moment, though her gaze did not shy away from Lara’s. “And then they let her go.”

Lara closed her eyes as her stomach dropped to the floor. I don’t care. She brought it upon herself.

But she should’ve never trusted someone else to do her job. It was no secret that Audrey was a gambler. It was Lara’s fault. She should’ve known better.

Her fingers turned white as they dug into the couch. If she didn’t do something now, it would be too late. It was concerning, the ease with which Lara pushed down her overflowing feelings and locked them up, through a well oiled mechanism she had perfected many times over the years. Did she even love Sam, if it was this easy?

When Lara looked at the other woman again, she had a purpose in mind. Bryn did not strike her for a cold-hearted killer, but she had learned a long time ago appearances were deceiving.

Lara stood and took a step towards the Don’s lackey, who seemed to want to hide under a rock rather than attack her. Very well.

"Throw your weapons. You beat me fair and square and I'll walk away with you," she said.

The pitiful look that met Lara’s challenge sparked the anger she was looking for. She needed more of that.

"You'll willingly leave with me?" Bryn reiterated.

“Yes.”

The urge to see if Bryn would really accept her challenge was strong, especially at the woman’s thoughtful gaze as her hand inched for the gun at her hip. No, no one would be that stupid, and Lara couldn’t risk to be held at gunpoint again.

Bryn’s lips parted, but before she could speak, Lara grabbed a cushion from the couch and flung it at her head. Then she sprinted towards the open window, jumped over the sill and landed on the grass outside.

Now she faced a decision. To the right, high fence, no dog. Left, low fence, a dog that had it out for her. If she was lucky, the dog could be roused by her but attack the second intruder. The next moment she made for the left yard and ran.