“I saw,” Cast replies, steady.
“She had blood on her sleeve,” I add.
“I saw that too,” he says, tone unchanged.
“He pressed the barrel to her temple,” I say, pressing my thumb to my own temple. “Right here. If I’d been fifteen minutes slower?—”
“You weren’t,” Cast cuts in firmly. “We were there.”
I shake my head, pacing again. Every time I reach the end of the hallway, the image hits—lamp chain swinging, money scattered across the floor, Justin’s eyes open and blank.
Cast’s gaze tracks me. “You’re not the only one carrying this,” he says, voice low.
“I fired,” I whisper.
“You had to,” he says.
“I still fired,” I snap, rubbing my palms together until the friction burns. My jaw locks tight. I force it open, but it clamps again. I drag in a shaky breath. “It doesn’t matter why. I still did it.”
“Just say it,” Cast urges.
“What?” I bark, spinning toward him. “That it’s my fucking fault? Because Iknowit’s my fault, Cast, you don’t have to rub it in?—”
“Don’t say my name like that,” he growls, his voice sharp enough to cut through the air.
I freeze, the sound of it hitting harder than I expect. “Cast?—”
He shakes his head once, eyes flashing. “You know I hate that,” he says quietly, but his voice trembles with anger. “You know why.”
My stomach twists. “I didn’t mean—” I start, guilt choking the words.
“You’re like a brother to me,” he says suddenly, voice raw and tight. “No—youaremy brother. And you don’t fucking act like it.”
“Brothers fight,” I mutter, trying to meet his eyes.
“Brothers trust,” he snaps, stepping closer. His hands ball into fists at his sides. “I don’t know what I did to make you think you can’t trust me, but I’m sorry.”
“Cast—” I try again, but he cuts me off.
“No, I mean it,” he says, shaking his head hard. His voice drops lower, quieter, the words breaking apart. “Whatever’s between us that made you think I wouldn’t protect you from this—I’m sorry.”
“I don’t need you to protect me,” I say, softer now, but the edge doesn’t leave.
“But you’ll put everyone else in danger to prove it?” he fires back.
“No, I—” I step forward, rubbing the back of my neck, my pulse hammering. “That’s not what I?—”
“Then what?” Cast demands, his voice rising again. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re trying to carry this alone until it kills you—or worse, until it kills Willow.”
I stop in the middle of the hall. My hand drops to my side. For the first time all night, I don’t have an answer. I look over at the open doorway to the living room where she is sleeping soundly on the couch.
“So what was it?” He steps closer. “What was he talking about?”
“Roughly fourteen billion dollars went missing a couple of weeks ago.”
“What do you mean a couple of weeks?”
“Three weeks ago…” I say again, my voice flat.
