“Yes.”
Mother Elvy asks no more questions. The group doesn’t look at the body as if it’s a person. It’s just a problem to clean up for them.
Wrapped.
Zipped.
Gone.
That’s it.
Eight minutes later, the marble is clean, the air smells faintly of solvent, and the room is back in its original order. It’s like Callie St. James never learned the wrong lesson.
Tomorrow, it will feel as if she never existed at all.
When the doors slide shut behind Mother Elvy and her bucket of bloody material, I turn back to the three men who haven’t stopped watching me. Their collective attention is a brand on my skin, but the unanswered questions lingering in the air make the burn sting with the unknown.
“She won’t be a problem anymore,” I remark before I can stop myself.
Silas looks at me as if he’s staring at a loaded weapon he intends to keep close. Kieran looks at me like he’s calculating his odds and simultaneously feeling humbled.
Jace takes one shaky step forward, eyes narrowed as he tilts his head in confusion.
“Who the hell are you?” he asks quietly.
I smile.
“Yours.”
