"I swear to god I'll kill you," she snarls, her numb fingers pulling at the rope binding her wrists.

"How?" he teases, flipping a knife in his hand. The air is cold and he wears both their jackets.

She rolls her eyes, another movement keeping her warm. "That's not important."

"But it's almost important," he points out, rising from his seated position on the ground. He steps towards her, tapping the knife steadily against his thigh.

"Pretty fucking far from almost," she growls, pulling out the last loop in the disgusting excuse for a knot.

She breaks free, throwing him to the ground. He cries out softly.

"Please," he begs, tears welling in his eyes.

"Shut up," she retorts, bringing his knife down onto his neck with his own hand.

For Rowan. Love ya ;)