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I want to believe him. God, how I want to believe that this wasn't all for nothing. But the image of Mario's lifeless body keeps flashing in my mind—his mocking half-smile, the hole in his forehead, the blood dripping from his face. Dying with the secrets I desperately needed.

ZAIRE

I watchfrom the window of the office as Vesper disappears when the car pulls away. My chest feels like someone's wrapped barbed wire around it and keeps pulling tighter the farther away she gets from me.

“She'll be okay,” Oz says, but his voice lacks conviction. My twin knows better than to lie to me.

I turn back to the still warm body of her uncle in the desk chair. “No, she fucking won't. We just got her back. We’re going to lose her all over again.”

Oz doesn't argue with me. His blue eyes, mirrors of my own, flick toward the body and then back to me. It has taken us both to get her this far. Taking a life, it changes you on a cellular level. Marks you in a way that redefines you. You either learn to live with the taint on your soul or you crumble.

“We’re not losing her again.”

“Keep saying that to yourself, Oz. She fucking collapsed after she killed the bastard. The stains from her tears are still on your shirt.”

“I know, Z. I was there. Now is not the time to argue. We need to clean this up before his guard or his staff show up.”

“We should have just—” My words cut off as the door swings open.

Alex kicks his way in, arms loaded with plastic sheeting, bleach, hydrochloric acid, and black garbage bags. His usual smirk is plastered on his face, like this is just another Tuesday for him.

“Found everything we need. They've got a whole closet dedicated to this shit downstairs. It’s giving me some ideas for the basement.Murder Supply Closethas a nice ring to it." He dumps the supplies on the floor with a clatter that makes me wince. “Makes you wonder how many bodies the Rossis have buried in their garden over the years, eh?” He grins, like we're discussing the weather and not standing in a room with the cooling corpse of Vesper's uncle.

I stare at him, jaw clenched so tight my teeth might crack. “Shut the fuck up, Alex.”

His smile falters. “Just trying to lighten the mood.”

“There's nothing light about this,” I snap, gesturing to Mario's corpse. “Vesper just killed her uncle, and we had to send her away. So excuse me if I don't find your gardening jokes fucking hilarious right now.”

Oz steps between us, always the mediator. “Z, he's just trying to help.”

“Then he can help without the commentary.” I snatch a roll of plastic from the pile.

Alex has the decency to look chastened as he pulls on latex gloves. “Sorry, man. I know you're worried about her. We all are, but until we get Mario out of here, and cover our tracks, this takes priority. The sooner we clean up, the sooner you get back to her.” He pauses, looking over the scene in front of us. “Let’s get him bundled up. It’ll be easier if he isn’t bleeding all over the place.”

“You’re the expert,” Oz remarks.

We work in tense silence, wrapping Mario's body in the blood-soaked rug from under his desk, and layers of plastic. The bullet wounds have stopped actively bleeding, but dark crimson still seeps through his expensive suit. All clean shots. I shouldn't feel proud of that, but some dark part of me does.

“What are we going to do with him? Talon took the SUV.”

“Already covered. Drag him out back. I’ll go pick something out for us,” Alex orders before slipping back outside the office door.

Oz and I exchange a look. It's not the first time we've had to dispose of a body, but there's something different about this one. This is the man who sold Vesper to The Collector, who paid for her torment for years. And now he's nothing but dead weight in plastic. He deserved so much worse than this for what he’s done.

“Let's move,” I say, grabbing the wrapped corpse under the arms. The smell of copper and death fills my nostrils as we lift him.

Oz takes the feet, and we shuffle awkwardly out the office door and down the ornate hallway. Every step feels like we're carrying Vesper's innocence further away from her. She'll never be the same after this. None of us will.

“You think she'll forgive us?” I ask as we maneuver through the doorway of what turns out to be the kitchen.

Oz grunts. “For what? Letting her pull the trigger or for cleaning up after?”

“For all of it. For bringing her into our world.”

My brother looks up at me over the plastic-wrapped bundle, something fierce and unshakable in his expression. “She was always in our world, Z. She’s just not prey anymore. She’s a predator like the rest of us.”

I spot the door at the rear of the kitchen, shifting us towards it. The warm air hits us like a slap as we shoulder through the back door. A small patio with neatly pruned hedges extends into a manicured lawn and expansive garden. The same one Oz and I used to cover our tracks to sneak into Vesper’s bedroom years ago before her life went to shit.