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“Drink.”
She blinks, shaking her head as she looks up at me.
“I—I don’t want a—”
“It wasn’t a request.”
She nods, trembling as her hands wrap around the glass and bring it to her lips.
“The whole thing,” I growl quietly. “And then I need you to stay right here.”
She nods again.
Back in the office, I work quickly, rolling up the rug with Pascha’s body in it, and doing a cursory sweep for any blood. This will never be a crime scene, so it’s not like I need to go out and buy bleach and a black light. Once I’m confident there’s no obvious blood or any other signs of what just happened here, I pull out my phone.
Kratos answers on the second ring.
“Hey, what’s up—”
“The ninety-ninth street development that Ezio Adamos’ crew is working on. They’re pouring the foundation tomorrow, yeah?”
The line is silent.
“Kratos, I need you to answer the fucking—”
“Do I even want to know who?”
“Probably not.”
He sighs heavily, slowly. “Yeah, first thing tomorrow at eight. I’m guessing you want me to tell the foreman not to look too hard in the pit before pouring?”
“Bingo.”
“Shit. Okay, yeah, consider it done.”
“Thanks.”
“Hades…you good, man?”
I glance first at the gash on my shoulder soaking my T-shirt with blood, then at the body rolled up in Elsa’s rug.
“I’m fine. Thanks, brother.”
Back in the bathroom, Elsa’s glass is almost empty, and Elsa herself is looking a lot better, with more color to her cheeks. She frowns, stiffening when she sees the blood on my shoulder.
“Is that from…?”
I shake my head. “That’s all me.”
Her frown deepens as she suddenly stands. “Let me see it.”
“Sit. You’re in shock.”
“And you’re bleeding, alot,” she throws back. “Let me see it.”
I lean against the sink, watching Elsa as she stands next to me and delicately pulls back the sliced-open T-shirt sleeve. She winces and makes a face as her eyes drag up to mine.
“Hades, you need stitches.”
