Page 4

“Where the fuck is Alex?” Oz mutters before a limo appears around the edge of the building and drives toward us. The limo's tinted windows gleam in the afternoon sun as Alex pulls it to a smooth stop just yards from where we're standing with Mario's body.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me,” I growl, staring at the sleek black vehicle. "A limo? Could you be any more conspicuous?"

Alex kills the engine and hops out, looking pleased with himself. “Relax. It's Mario's personal car. Everyone knows he uses it. No one will question it leaving the property.” He pops the trunk. “Plus, plenty of room for our cargo.”

“And when someone reports it missing?” Oz asks, shifting his grip on our burden.

“By then it'll be stripped and at the bottom of the harbor,” Alex replies, helping us maneuver the plastic-wrapped corpse into the spacious trunk. “Trust me, I've got a guy who specializes in making expensive cars disappear.”

I can't argue with his logic, but I still want to punch the smirk off his face. “You never leave your fucking room, Alex. How do you meet all these so-called people?” I ask.

“I told you. The dark web isn’t just a place to buy and sell kidneys. It’s a community of like-minded individuals. You should try it sometime. You might find someone who has tips about how to get that giant stick dislodged from your ass, Z.”

I lunge for Alex, but Oz catches my arm, jerking me back.

“Not now,” Oz hisses, his grip tightening. “We need to finish this.”

The rage pounds at the inside of my skull, but he's right. We're standing outside with a corpse in the trunk of a limo. Not the time for a pissing match.

“Let's finish cleaning inside.”

Back in the office, Alex dives into Mario’s laptop, scrubbing the security footage. Oz sprays down every surface with bleach while I collect shell casings, wipe the counters, and eliminate any sign Vesper was ever here. The sharp scent of blood mixes with the harsh bite of chemicals, burning the inside of my nose and throat.

“Found the security footage,” Alex calls from behind the desk, fingers flying over the keyboard. “Wiping the last forty-eight hours now. I'm replacing it with a loop from last week.” He looks up, his face tight with focus. “The cameras will show Mario leaving in his limo, alone and very much alive.”

I nod and drop blood-soaked rags into a garbage bag. Every part of me wants to be with Vesper, not here cleaning up the aftermath of her first kill. The image of her—frozen, pale, completely shattered—won’t stop replaying in my head. That expression, that moment, is burned into me.

“Z, you're spacing out,” Oz says, nudging my shoulder. “Stay focused.”

“I am focused,” I snap, tying off the bag with more force than necessary. “I just want this done.”

Oz's expression softens fractionally. “I know. We all do.”

“How much longer on the tech shit, Alex?”

“Ten minutes tops,” he answers.

“Make sure you get everything,” Oz replies, scrubbing at a stubborn bloodstain on the expensive Persian rug. “We can't afford loose ends.”

I pocket the last shell casing and move to the doorframe, checking for any stray blood splatter.

"Almost done," Alex responds. "Hey, you guys should see this. Mario's got some interesting files on his computer. Looks like blackmail material on half the east coast families."

“Download it,” Oz says immediately. “Could be useful.”

“Already on it. There's something else too. Files on Vesper. A lot of them.”

My blood runs cold. “What kind of files?”

“Records of payments. Correspondence. Photos…” Alex trails off, and I know whatever he's seeing is bad.

“Save it all,” I bark, my fists clenching. “Every last fucking byte.”

“Z,” Oz warns, recognizing the edge in my voice.

“No. I want to know everything he did to her.”

“I don’t think you do, Z,” Alex declares.