I wake up with Nicole and Frank by my side.

My first thought, as stupid as it sounds, is that I cheated on Gabriel.

I remind myself that she pimped me out to Nicole not so long ago, so my stupid, misplaced loyalty can very well shut up. I completed the mission, that's all.

I look around, trying to find what did wake me up. There's a message on my phone.

Not many people know that number, so I nude out on Frank and Nicole to check it. The sender's unknown, but it doesn't take much to guess who it is.

You can have me.

That's the message. And a place. Nothing else.

Mint didn't even take his time to add that I must come alone. He knows that I know. And I will. Alone, just like him.

It's a duel, then.

I breathe out three times to relieve the sudden tension in my muscles. I've been waiting for this moment to arrive, but now that it's here, I feel it's happening too soon.

I sneak out of the pub without waking Nicole and Frank up. It's my business only. There's nothing I could tell them, anyway. If I'm not coming back, they'll notice. If I am, I can still give them an update.

I hesitate at the door for a moment, though. I'm leaving without saying goodbye, again, and I promised myself never to do that to people I care for. And they are my team; I can't walk out of their life without a word. But I can't put them in danger, either, and Mint is danger on two legs. If anyone can be called that in the world, he's that person.

I close the door behind my back with a promise. I'll be back. That's a goal worth fighting for.

When I'm on the streets, I start running. I know the place I'm heading to. It's an old, abandoned shooting range we frequented years ago. Now it feels like ages ago, rather. I allowed Mint to shoot an apple off my head there, and he did, too. We smelled like apple juice for days, no matter how many times we washed our hair.

A lot has happened since. It's about time to finish this fucked up story.

It might be a trap. But if it's a trap, then so be it. I won't go down without a fight. It's him or me now, and I'll make sure that it will be the showdown of the century.

When I get there, Mint's already waiting. In plain sight, without trying to conceal his presence. I could shoot him easily as soon as I enter the building. He's not even looking for cover, he's just sitting there, watching me.

There must be a trick.

"You know I wouldn't miss you from here, right?" I ask him. My voice is resounding in the huge hall.

"I know," he answers. "But please don't shoot me yet, okay?"

"I'm pointing my gun at you, Mint."

"You don't say. I still don't need spectacles, bro."

"So, what the fuck?" I ask, trying to sound less confused than I am. "Do you have a death wish?"

He just chuckles. It's not a pleasant sound, by any means. It reminds me of an old man coughing. He doesn't sound like himself. He sounds sick.

I approach him at point-blank range without blinking. He doesn't move a muscle, but he's still Mint. He can come up with anything, anytime. I must remain alert.

When I stand by his side, mere steps away, I point my gun at his forehead. He still doesn't flinch.

"What the fuck are you playing at?" I shout at him. "Will we fight, or what?"

Only then, I take a good look at him.

He doesn't just sound ill, he looks ill, too. I've never seen him this pale. His skin has a mild grayish hue. It's scary. But not nearly as scary as the look in his eyes. It reminds me of a rabid animal, moments before going wild.

He's not himself.

"Do you want to fight?" I ask him again, but, to be honest, as stupid as it sounds, I deem it more urgent to replace my gun pointed at his forehead with my hand and check if he has a fever. He might have caught the virus without noticing.

"I don't have a gun," he says. "What I do have is a proposal."

I gulp. I shouldn't believe him. And I shouldn't feel worried for him, in the least, but I am. There's something seriously wrong with him. Before I could think twice, I lower my gun, and I plaster the palm of my hand on his forehead.

He's cold to the touch. He doesn't have a fever. How could I think that he did? He's as cold and distant as can be.

He doesn't attack me, just pushes my hand away.

"What proposal?" I whisper. I'm unable to look him in the eyes once more. He fucking scares me, and I don't even know why. He's been cold before. The harder you press him, the cooler he feels; I know that from experience. But now, he's not cold, he's frozen.

"I'll take care of this problem, Duke," he says. "If you promise that you'll take care of Gabriel."

I stare at him with my mouth agape. There's something wrong with him, I am certain now. His symptoms may not be typical, the virus might be affecting his brain, but something's off.

"What do you mean by problem?" I ask him with my throat going dry.

"The pandemic. And your problem, too. I'll be gone for good. What do you say?"

What could I say? Thank you for solving all my problems in one go? Is there another answer to that?

"You scare me, bro."

Well, there is, apparently.

"I'm not fucking you over," he says. "But you have to promise that—"

"How?" I interrupt him. "How will you take care of everything?"

"Does it matter? I know how, okay? And I know that you'll take good care of Gabriel, bro. You'll be perfect for her. She likes you. You like her. And you know how to treat her in a way she deserves. You've always been so much better at that than me, so I'm one hundred percent sure that—"

"Stop it." I feel a strange coldness in my bones that makes me interrupt him again. He's speaking the truth, but there's something else going on that I can't follow.

"She's all you ever wanted," Mint says with a painful grin. "And I know she'll make you happy, because..."

"Because?"

"Because she's everything we've been thinking about her," he bursts out. "Can you believe it? And much more. So much more, Duke."

I stare at him again. But that's all he had to say.

"Haven't you experienced something strange regarding her?" I ask him after a long pause.

"I did," he admits. "In fact, I did."

I thought so.

"That she's perfect," he goes on. "And I never knew that perfect women existed for real, bro. I thought that was possible only in those stupid fairy tale books. So yeah, it's strange."

I swallow, and I nod. There's nothing I could add, anyway. Nothing he'd understand.

"I texted you the place," he says. "The one you failed to locate. Wait for her there. And please, don't leave her alone for a second, okay?"

He doesn't call me a dumbass because I failed to find his headquarters. He's all business, being cold as ice. It's a terrible feeling, and it's spreading. From my bones to my stomach, then, to my limbs. They are going numb because I'm freezing, too.

"All right," I whisper, forcing my vocal cords to cooperate. "And what about the other side of the deal?"

What about you? My real question sounds blatantly evident inside my head. But not for him.

"I know a way to stop this madness," he promises me.

"No," my mouth says, without consulting with my brain, first.

"It's already decided."

"I'm going with you," I continue, not giving enough time for my thoughts to interject. It's my gut speaking—the one filled with a chilling sense of foreboding.

"You can't."

"I must."

"I don't need anybody for this mission, bro."

I'd go on, but a gun pointed at my said guts stops me in my tracks.

"You said you didn't have a weapon," I mutter.

"It's yours, Duke."

I failed to notice when he took it from my hand. My fingers are too numb to feel. My eyes are too cloudy to see. My brain is too frozen to think.

"You know what, Mint, it was a pretty long and meaningless talk just to distract me so that you can shoot me in the end."

I wish my voice wouldn't sound wistful instead of angry. They say that being shot in the gut is fucking painful, but survivable if you get medical treatment in time.

"I'll leave your gun outside," he says. "I won't need it, either."

There's no way I can stop him. And I don't have a reason to stop him from solving all my problems, in the first place, but I'd try, anyway, if he didn't touch my hand, the one that held a gun a few minutes ago.

"Don't cheat on her, Duke," he says. "She knows nothing about men. She wouldn't even know how to react. And stop drinking. And—"

He stops abruptly and shakes his head.

"Be well, Duke."

Then, in a second, he's gone.