Everyone looked at Jack, Elizaveta included. She didn’t believe Jack put a hit on Nitro. It was absurd.

Wasn’t it?

“Give me a fucking break, Jesus,” Jack said.

“You had the chance to shoot him,” Jesus said. “Whoever was outside watching you guys through that hole. You had a chance to shoot him but you didn’t.”

“And I suppose I murdered Miguel too, huh?”

“I don’t know. Did you? I certainly didn’t.”

“I’m not listening to this shit.” He wiggled the pistol at Jesus. “Get on your knees.”

“Jack,” Pita said. “I think you need to put down the gun.”

“Get to your knees!”

“Jack, stop it!” Pita said.

“You hated Nitro!” Jesus shouted. “You set this up! You killed him!”

“I didn’t even know he was coming until this fucking morning!”

“Give me the gun, Jack.”

“Get to your knees!”

“Jack!” Pita screeched.

“Eliza,” Jack said. “Go get me Pepper’s belt.”

“His belt? Why?” she asked. The air was thick with confusion. She didn’t know what was going on, who to believe.

“I’m going to tie Jesus up.”

“Eliza,” Jesus said. “Don’t listen to him.”

She glanced from Jack to Jesus, frozen with indecision.

Rosa bolted to the bedroom, returning a moment later with Pepper’s purple belt.

“Pita,” Jack said, “move away from your brother.”

“You can’t tell me what to do.”

“Move, or I swear to God I’ll put a bullet in his knee.”

Glowering, she moved away a few steps.

“Get down,” Jack told Jesus, approaching him cautiously.

“You won’t get away with this,” he said.

“Get down!”

Jesus lowered himself to his knees.

“Put your arms out, wrists together.”

“Fuck you.”

Jack pistol-whipped him on the temple, though not very hard.

“Ow!” Jesus said.

“Jack!” Pita said.

“Do it!”

Jesus put his arms out.

“Rosa, you’re going to need to—”

“No,” Elizaveta said, getting hold of herself. She had to pick a side, and she knew in her heart Jack didn’t have anything to do with Nitro’s murder. “I will.”

She took the belt from Rosa, then went to Jesus and bound his wrists together. She could feel Pita’s eyes into her.

“Is it tight?” Jack asked.

“Yes.”

Jack pressed his foot against Jesus’s chest and pushed him, so he toppled backward onto his butt. “Stay,” he said.

Jack

1

Rosa and Elizaveta and I sat against one wall inside the cabin, Jesus and Pita against another. I set the pistol on the floor next to me and peeled off my tank top. The knife wound was far to the left of my navel, deeper than it was wide. I could barely see the laceration beneath the fresh-flowing blood, but I could feel my heartbeat in it, steady and slow, an unwelcomed reminder of my mortality.