Wild Nights, Wild Nights || Spencer Reid x Reader

35. ...And Death But Death

"What are you doing here?" you asked, your voice low and tense.

He scoffed at your question, and unlike every time he'd held a gun to you while being held hostage, his hand didn't shake. His gun was aimed at you with purpose. Intent. "You broke your end of the deal. Figured I'd return the favor."

"How'd you even find his apartment?"

"You'd be surprised what you can find in public records. Couldn't find your address, though. I wasn't surprised about that in the slightest. You'd think the bureau would take down any federal agent's address, but..." He shrugged nonchalantly.

"So, what? You were going to kill Spencer to get back at me?" you ground out.

"That's putting it simply, but yes," he answered. He glared at you down the barrel of your gun. "But... you know, maybe this is better."

You curled your fingers into fists. "Can I ask how you got out? You really pulled a Houdini on us."

He smiled. "Aw, I thought you were supposed to be smart. Did you really think dad had a safehouse with only one way out?"

"Okay, congrats—you avoided the feds. You could probably figure out how to do it again from here. So if you're going to kill me, just take the shot."

The smile faded from his lips. He swallowed thickly. There was a slight tremor in his hand. His eyes narrowed.

"Well? I'm waiting."

"Stop talking."

You forced the scowl from your face and made your voice softer. You said, "Alex, you're not going to kill me. You won't. That's not you."

He let out a harsh laugh. "Try me."

"I know that you're better than this. My deal still stands. It's going to be a long process to get Boucher indicted. You could make that so much faster. You could help more. You could free yourself. I can still get you into Witness Protection."

And when he failed to answer, you took an agonizingly slow step forward. His other hand flew to the gun, and his finger moved to the trigger. You froze, opening your palms to him as if to say okay.

"I can still help you," you reiterated.

"No, you can't," he said. "You have... you have no idea what you did."

"I gave you an out."

"No, you didn't." He swiped a hand down his face. His breathing picked up. "The... the entire mob knows that Boucher won't talk. Soon they'll know that Dad and Leo are... are dead." He took a sharp breath, his face scrunching with grief for a moment before he continued, "So then who's left to talk? If feds start cracking down on them, they will know it's me, and—" He let out a harsh bitter laugh. "No one takes kindly to a snitch, least of all the fucking mafia."

"We can keep you sa—"

"Safe?" Another laugh. "Y/N, we are everywhere. We are everyone. We are your waiters. Your attorneys. Your fucking colleagues. Boucher was your fucking boss, and he's already in custody." His brows narrowed. "So if I say anything, it does not matter if you put me in Witness Protection. It does not matter where you try to hide me. They will find me within the week. And if my only options are that, a fate which, I'm sure you know from personal experience is worse than death, or running the whole fucking thing myself..." He shrugged. "It's an easy choice, Y/N."

"I don't remember you being such a coward." you bit back.

His eyes flared. His hand tightened on his gun.