They sat at the table, facing each other with the revolver between them, a lone bullet left in the chamber. The door was barricaded but did little to mask the sound of the thundering footsteps on the floor below; the crash of chairs and smash of bottles.

It was only a matter of time until the fuzz found them.

Charlie dipped his fedora lower, the brim half-covering his blue eyes. They were deep-set, marred with exhaustion. His gaze never left hers, the depth of the sorrow and regret painful to