I pull my red wine-colored Audi into the crevices of the alley, the vehicle screeching to a halt. The alley is small and dark but stretches like a winding road. As I step out of the car, my door nearly scrapes the brick wall.

"You always loved your Audi, Summe," a nickname she gave me when she was young, my best friend.

"I can smell the metallic blood dripping from your barrel, Cat," I say, smirking with my back to her.

"You know I don't like my kills clean," she follows with a chuckle that bounces from wall to wall.

When I finally turn my back, she's right where I expect her to be. Her gun's muzzle is cold to the touch on the skin of my forehead, leaving not just the smell of her succulent fragrance, but the blood of her last enemy.

"Boom," she says as the gun clicks. Nothing comes out. The safety is on.

I smile.