Her eyes flare, and I wonder what my confession means to her. That I’ve lost all rational sense, that this really is the end…for the both of us?

I lower the stone and watch as her eyes seal closed in anticipation for the strike. I allow myself one greedy moment where I inhale her addictive scent, memorize her beautiful features, before I place the rock in her delicate palm. “There’s only one timekeeper left.”

I feel her chest collapse as she releases a pent-up breath. Her confused gaze shifts to the lone clock hung on the black wall and then tracks to me.

A tight smile rims my mouth. “You know what you have to do.”

Understanding alights in her eyes, her features strained with a mocking imitation of sentiment. “Alex…you’re insane.”

“That’s been established.”

“I can’t—”

“I’m not like you,” I confess. “The moment the secondhand stops, I’ll be forced to confront what I’ve done, and the guilt will destroy me. I’m not sure what I’ll do then…what I’ll be capable of. You have no choice.”

She shakes her head. “I’m not a killer.”

Her teeth catch her bottom lip, and the sight sets my blood on fire. An act I once deemed she did to assert control over the opposite sex, I now realize, with sullen remorse, is an impulse of her uncertainty.

She’s not committed to her words.

Instinct is impulse, and I reach out to touch her. My hand is sure as I caress the strands of her blond hair, dragging my fingers down the side of her face to tilt her chin up. The hunger to taste her one last time burns through me, voracious.

The room feels as if it exhales a leaden breath as I rest my forehead against hers. “This is exactly what you’re designed to do.”

She releases the rock and I catch it before it hits the floor.

“That’s not true,” she whispers, her breath unsteady.

With every vicious craving, I place a tender kiss to her forehead, then take I aim at the clock. The loud crash reverberates through the room. Glass clatters to the floor. The silver pendulum lies motionless in the dark.

A moment of sublime silence where the vile, relentless ticking ceases, then the cold chill of darkness.

As I face Blakely, her relief is momentary as it flits across her features. I dig the keyring out of my pocket and push it into her hand. “Run.”

Her soft forehead creases as her eyebrows knit together in confusion before realization dawns.

I remove the glass vial from my pocket and hold it up so the chemicals within catch the light.

“Alex—?”

Her voice is a faded whisper as I smash the vial to the hardwood floor. The potassium chlorate and glycerin work just fine when combined, but the addition of water reacts as an accelerant.