My world narrows on the pool of blood forming around the body, soaking into the white suit. There's something oddly colorful about the stain of blood on a white fabric. Perhaps, more so, because it is Donovan's.
Numbing cold flows from my toes to my fingertips and I feel it reaching into my chest as I glance up from the body to catch Zefiro lowering his gun.
There.
His amber eyes gleam, unnaturally bright with something unidentifiable, yet devilishly sinister. Though I know I won't find it there, I search for even a glimmer of remorse and find nothing but chilling satisfaction. "I urge you to sit, Belikov. Donovan was and has always been a loose end. For Cosa Nostra. For Bratva. He talked too much."
The blonde sits, wiping the blood off his cuff. "He had his uses."
Like that breaks th
