Page 6

I nod numbly and step toward the glass enclosure. To my surprise, Talon removes his handgun and cell phone from his belt, setting them carefully on the counter before following me into the shower, still fully dressed in his shirt and pants.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Making sure you don't collapse,” he says simply, closing the door behind us. Water immediately soaks through his clothes, plastering the fine fabric to his muscular frame. His hair darkens under the spray, rivulets running down his face.

“Your suit—” I begin.

“Is just fabric,” he interrupts me. “You’re more important to me than threads and cotton, princess.”

I sway beneath the water, too numb to protest or even properly feel the heat against my skin. The water swirling at my feet turns pink, then red, as Mario's blood washes away. My uncle's blood. The blood I spilled.

“Turn around,” Talon says softly. “Lean your head back.”

I comply without thinking, too empty to resist. His fingers thread through my hair, working methodically from roots to ends. The scent of lavender fills the steam-clouded shower as he massages shampoo into my scalp. His touch is unexpectedly tender, each stroke deliberate and soothing.

“Close your eyes,” he instructs, tilting my head further back to keep the suds from running down my face.

I surrender to his care, letting my lids fall shut as his fingertips work small circles against my scalp. The gentle pressure draws a sigh from my lips.

“That's it,” Talon encourages, his thumbs pressing lightly at the base of my skull where tension has knotted my muscles. “Just breathe."

He works the lather through my hair, massaging away the physical remnants of what I've done. If only he could wash away the memories as easily.

“I keep seeing his face. Does it...does it ever get easier?” The question feels like poison on my tongue.

“It shouldn't. The day taking a life becomes easy is the day you've lost something essential. I wish I could tell you it will fade with time, princess, but it won’t. The first life you take will always stick with you.”

“Who was your first?”

“Someone who stole from my father.”

“Did you mean to do it?”

“Yes. Unlike yours, mine wasn't an accident.” His jaw tightens. “My father handed me the gun and told me to prove my loyalty to the family. It was his little test to see if his bastard son was worthy of his last name.”

“Did it hurt you? After?”

“For a long time.” He reaches for the conditioner, squeezing a dollop into his palm before working it through my hair with the same careful attention. “But the difference between you and me, Vesper, is that I knew what I was getting into. This life wasn't forced on me the way it was on you.”

“I’m sorry," I mumble.

“Never apologize for doing what is necessary, Vesper.”

Talon's hands pause in my hair as he notices me trembling beneath his touch. The water has gone lukewarm, but that's not why I'm shaking.

“You're freezing,” he says softly, reaching behind me to turn off the shower. “Let's get you dry.”

He steps out first, grabbing a plush towel from the rack and wrapping it around me before I can even register the cool air hitting my wet skin. The tenderness in his touch makes my throat tighten. He grabs another towel for himself, quickly running it over his drenched clothes before draping it around his neck.

“Better?” he asks, his voice low, searching for something in my face.

I manage a small nod, clutching the towel tighter around my body. My teeth have started chattering despite every effort to keep them still. A sharp knock at the bedroom door makes us both turn. Talon’s demeanor shifts instantly—shoulders tightening, his jaw setting with silent resolve.

“Get dressed.” He pauses in the doorway, glancing back. “Will you be alright for a minute?”

“I’ll be fine,” I lie, the words like ash on my tongue.

Talon gives a single nod—hesitant, clearly unconvinced—but says nothing else. The door clicks shut behind him, leaving me alone with my reflection once more.