I stood in the doorway of the living room for a moment, watching Leo from behind. He was loosening his tie, movements precise, controlled, like everything he did even when he was exhausted. His jacket lay folded over the arm of the couch, his phone face-down on the table. No distractions. No escape.
I swallowed.
There was a question sitting in my chest, heavy and sharp, and I knew if I didn't ask it now, it would rot there.
"Leo," I said.
He turned immediately. "Yeah?"
I hesitated. Just for a second. Then forced myself forward.
"Was Nathan serious?"
His expression changed, not dramatically, but enough. His shoulders stiffened, just slightly.
"About what?" he asked.
I crossed my arms, grounding myself. "About the gun."
The word landed between us.
"If you hadn't threatened him," I continued carefully, "would he have actually… pulled the trigger?"
The silence that followed was different from before.
Thicker. More dangerous.
Leo didn't answer right away.
