Page 143 of Blood & Snow

His evasion suggests tonight's violence exceeded even their usual brutality.

"Where's Xander?" I ask, though I already suspect the answer.

"Had business elsewhere."

Igor's tone suggests the conversation is a closed matter.

When men in this organization shell up, there's no point in pressing for more.

Xander couldn't face me.

After our intimate encounter in the car, after I told him I needed to step away, he can't bring himself to watch me clean up one more scene.

The realization stings, confirming that our relationship has shifted into something painful for both of us.

My head sags.

I never wanted it to be this way.

"We moved the bodies to the furnace district," Igor continues.

"Blood and debris are yours to handle."

It's just standard procedure.

The men handle removal while I eliminate traces that could connect specific individuals to the scene.

It's a division of labor that has worked efficiently for months, allowing us to sanitize crime scenes quickly.

But they learned everything too.

With a job this large, they should be helping with all of it.

Ivan appears from the warehouse entrance, his sandy hair disheveled and tactical vest stained blood.

He nods to me, then follows Igor toward their waiting vehicle.

I stand there feeling dumbfounded and just watching because what else can I do?

"Five hours until dawn," Igor calls over his shoulder.

"Finish before then."

Their car disappears into the maze of industrial streets, leaving me alone with my supplies and the task ahead.

The warehouse entrance yawns before me, darkness beyond the threshold but I'm livid.

Anger flares in my chest.

He couldn't even face me.

After everything we've shared, after the intimacy in the car and the words of love exchanged between gasping breaths, Xander abandons me to clean up his mess alone.

This is what I get for trying to be reasonable, for attempting to end things professionally.

I came here tonight to prove I could step back without betraying him, to show that love doesn't require participation in murder.

Instead, he treats me as expendable labor, someone to be summoned with cryptic text messages and dismissed when convenient.