I began to slide my feet sideways, moving inch by inch toward the fireplace.

No one was watching me; all eyes were locked on Leo and Silvio.

The tension in the room was a physical weight, pressing down on all of us.

The phone on the desk buzzed once more, its screen flashing a bright blue light in the shadows.

The light illuminated Leo’s desperate face.

His knuckles were white around the grip of his pistol.

“You think you’ve won, Dominic?” Leo called out.

“You’re too weak to even stand.”

Dominic didn’t answer, but I could hear his heavy, ragged breathing behind the chair.

He was waiting for the first shot.

We all were.

I reached the edge of the brick hearth, my shoulder brushing against the cold stone.

I kept my eyes on Leo, watching the slight tremor in his hand.

The storm outside seemed to grow louder, the wind slamming against the glass.

My fingers searched the cool, rough surface of the bricks behind my back.

I felt the rough mortar, the cracks, the cold soot.

Then, my fingertips brushed against a slight protrusion.