When you prepared to break in, you wondered whether to leave your bullets behind, whether to carry the guns just to frighten the old man if he woke up. But you kept them.
Raising the gun, you aim for the chest, ever so slightly above the heart to account for the additional weight of the bullet. Your finger pushes on the trigger.
The bang, to you, is silent as the click if you hadn't brought your two bullets. Your concentration ignores Anthony's moan of pain, Kyle's shriek, the hard thump on the downstairs door. There is only you, and the target.
Once that is done, you turn to face Kyle. You still have one bullet left; if he turns on you, you can put it between his eyes and run for it.
'You... you... you...'
'Yes, Kyle, I killed him. Is that so surprising?'
He pulls out his gun. 'Don't even try to stop me. I'm leaving this place, and if I see you again, I call the cops.'