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She nods.
“He was an asshole, and I’m glad he’s gone, even if he was my brother.”
I have no idea how or why any of that pops out. I don’t tell anyone about how Atlas used to pummel me. And I’ve never put how I feel about his death into actual, out-loud words, even to my siblings.
Elsa finishes the last two stitches wordlessly. Then, with a nod, she uses a pair of nail clippers to cut the remaining thread away with a satisfied nod.
“There. All done.”
“Just like sewing a button back on.”
She smiles briefly, but it quickly fades as worry crosses her face and she turns to stare at the door to her office.
“So… Now what?” she says in a small voice that makes me want to stand between her and the world.
I sigh. “Now, we move a rug.”
* * *
There’sa zero percent chance that we can walk out the front doors of this building and onto Madison Avenue with a fucking body rolled up in a rug without getting arrested. Further complicating matters is the fact that most of the office has cameras set up—trust me, I know. I’ve broken into this place four times before.
In the end, I manage to jump from Elsa’s balcony to the one attached to the office next to hers, and then to the one next tothat. From there, I can reach the window-washers’ platform, where I snag a spare coil of rope, and then jump back to Elsa’s.
I use the rope to hoist the rolled-up rug from her balcony up to the roof of the building. From there, we take the maintenance elevator down to the garage beneath the building and deposit Pascha in his carpet casket into the trunk of my waiting car.
Yes, we.
Elsa’s silent as we drive uptown to the project on ninety-ninth street that the Adamos family—one of the Drakos family’s several vassal families—is overseeing. The one that is slated to have its foundation poured tomorrow, which will now and forever be this piece of shit’s final resting place.
“Stay here,” I murmur when I stop the car just inside the construction gates.
I half expect her to fight me on that, because why break with tradition. But Elsa does indeed stay put as I close the gates, pop my trunk, and then drag Pascha’s dead ass to the edge of the foundation pit. In he goes, carpet and all, followed by a generous scoop of dirt from one of the earth-movers nearby.
It’s done.
When I get back to the car, I shut the door, but don’t turn the engine on quite yet. Instead, we both just sit there in the dark, staring out into the city night.
Slowly, I turn to her. She’s still looking straight ahead. The glow of the dashboard illuminates her soft face and tight jaw.
She looks so vulnerable. So desperately in need of protection.
“That night, at Venom…”
I don’thaveto bring this up right now. But I can’tnotbring it up anymore, either.
Elsa swallows, chewing on her lower lip as she turns to face me with guarded eyes.
“Why did you jump me like that?”
She blushes deeply.
“I didn’tjump—”
“Potayto, potahto. Why’d you kiss me? Why’d you pick me?”
She swallows again uncomfortably. “I needed an outlet. You know, to blow off steam.”
“But whyme,” I growl quietly.
