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Could I kill mine?

“The others would keep him from doing that if I couldn’t,” Royce says finally, his voice gravelly. “Ellie would probably be the first one to claw his throat out if he even thought about handing Bianca over. The others would be right there behind him.”

Though I know it should bring some small sense of relief, it doesn’t. Not when I know that there are people out there who would harm my baby. Not when I’m part of the reason for her being stuck in the middle of a war she thankfully knows nothing about.

“Sucks when you can’t trust your own family.”

Royce snorts. “Yeah, you’re right about that.”

I look down at the men in front of me, taking in the cuts on their bodies and the dried blood from the bullet wounds in their chest. The blue tarp wrapped around their bodies covers the rest.

“You should get out of here.” Royce grabs one of the shovels he brought down with us, the other still leaning against a tree.

“I don’t know why you think I would do that when I told you I was going to help you.”

He drives the end of the shovel into the dirt and leans against it. “You have to think about this, Gia. You even knowing about the bodies right now and not calling the cops is a crime.”

“Yeah, because forging paintings for a living isn’t.” I give him a flat look, glancing down at Jon and Marcus again.

“Only one of us should go down for the crime if we get caught. Someone needs to be around for Bianca.”

Tears prick the corners of my eyes, an overwhelming sense of guilt crashing over me in waves. It threatens to knock me over, but I stand tall, glaring at the men who thought they could come for my daughter.

They were going to take her from me. I know they were.

If Noah was coming for both of us, there would’ve been more men.

“Hand me the damn shovel, Royce.”

He watches me like I’m a caged animal about to go feral before he hands over the shovel and grabs the other one.

I plunge the sharp edge into the dirt close to the bodies. “So, how many times have you done this? Is there something I should do?”

“You’ve never buried a body before, but you wanted to come out here and help me with these ones?” He shakes his head, amusement in his voice. “Gia, this is one of the nastiest things we have to do.”

“How nasty?” I slide another shovelful of dirt to the side. “The bodies don’t start breaking down for several hours.”

His gaze is cold as he nods to the trees. “I’ve got the body of a pig sitting farther away from us. We have to dig the hole deep enough to put the bodies, add a layer of dirt, toss the pig on top to throw off any dogs that might come out this way, and then cover it all back up.”

I pause for a moment before shrugging. “That’s honestly not as bad as I thought.”

Royce laughs, digging beside me. “How bad did you think it was going to be?”

“I’ve seen bodies put through industrial meat grinders.”

“Sadly, those are a little hard to transport.” He smirks at me as we keep digging, sweat beading on the back of my neck.

“Only you would be making jokes at a time like this.” I can’t help the tiny spark of amusement that has me forgetting for just a moment that we’re going to dispose of bodies together.

If I close my eyes for a minute, I might be able to pretend that the two of us are on a date.

A really fucked-up and nasty date.

“Well, maybe.” He grins and keeps shoveling, the thud of the shovel hitting the dirt filling the air.

The last of the leaves on the trees rustle with the wind, the first flakes of snow falling and melting before they hit the ground.

“You didn’t tell me how much you’ve done this.”