When I first spoke to Lucas about Thomas, I was unsure if I was Fortunato or Montresor. And when I had the chance to be the latter, to use what Lucas had told me about Deacan to manipulate Thomas, I repeatedly balked. But don’t I have the right to survive?

A female praying mantis kills and eats her mate so she can use his energy to produce more eggs and provide for her offspring. Shark embryos cannibalize littermates in the womb to ensure their nutrients. Male hummingbirds use sharp bills to stab each other in order to secure a mate. Meerkat mothers kill the offspring of other females to maintain their dominance. Every organism on earth does what’s necessary to survive. I dig deep for resolve. If need be, I will, too.

Moose noses my hand at 6:00 a.m. He needs to go outside. Quietly, I dress and head down the elevator. It’s dark, cold, and the air has the chemical stink of rain on asphalt. I forgot my coat and shiver. Moose takes pity on me and quickly does his business. In the elevator he gives me a side-eye. “We all have needs,” I tell him. “Remember that cute Labradoodle at the dog park? You were twice her size. And what’d I say when we had to leave because you wouldn’t stop humping her?” Moose looks away. “I said way to go, buddy. She was hot.”

I pause at the door, keycard in hand. “What if Thomas isn’t sorry?” I quietly ask Moose. He lifts a paw in the air. “I didn’t think you liked him, but I’ll take that as a high five.”

Thomas is already in the shower. He’s locked the door. When he comes out in a towel, he doesn’t look directly at me. I didn’t expect a relationship, but detachment from a man I was truly intimate with makes my insides wilt.

“I won’t be long,” I say, then grab a change of clothes and my coat and close the bathroom door. In the shower, I run my hands over the body he kissed just a few hours ago and soap the soreness between my legs. In the moment, sex with Thomas felt like more than a one-night stand. I shouldn’t have kissed him or let him see that moment of total vulnerability when I came. If I hadn’t done that, this would hardly rate more than a slight emotional sting. Focus. If I take too long of a shower, Thomas might become suspicious that I’m up to something. He’d be right. I crouch in the corner, my back to the spray. I’m done in a few minutes then turn the shower off and quickly towel dry.

By the time I’m dressed in a clean pair of jeans and black cashmere sweater, breakfast has arrived—scrambled eggs, bacon, fruit, and coffee. Is that a message that we’re back to being adversaries? We focus on our food, forks and knives clattering, coffee is poured, sipped. When we reach for jam at the same time, we both recoil. Moose watches from the couch. The invisible bubble over his head reads: Duh.