But because he was the weakest and thus the most expendable.
“Just go—”
This time, he didn’t let her finish.
“As you wish.”
Zacharie turned his back and walked away. Every step he took was like distancing himself from the light while the darkness swallowed more and more of him. Every moment was a battle, a deliberate choicenotto look back or take anything back.
Once he was out, it should have been easier to breathe.
But instead, it was the opposite, despite the cool night air brushing against his face.
The parking lot was nearly empty save for his black sedan and a few other vehicles. He got in easily enough. But despite knowing there, he simply stayed behind the wheel and waited.
Because he needed to make sure she was safe one last time.
He was just doing his job, that’s all.
Thee minutes ticked by. Ten. Twenty. Thirty.
The lights inside the funeral parlor dimmed. Staff members emerged, got into their cars, drove away. The boulevard grew quiet, nothing but the distant hum of the freeway and the occasional car passing by.
Still he waited.
Headlights swept across the parking lot as another car pulled in.
Zacharie straightened, his hand moving instinctively toward the weapon concealed beneath his jacket. Late-night visitor to a closed funeral parlor. Could be innocent. Could be a threat.
The car, a silver Honda, unremarkable, California plates, rolled to a stop near the entrance.
A man stepped out. Young, maybe mid-twenties. Dark hair, athletic build, dressed in jeans and a rumpled button-down like he had driven straight here from somewhere far away.
Zacharie’s eyes narrowed.
Before he could decide whether to intercept, the funeral parlor’s front door swung open, and Mira came rushing out.
Her face was tear-streaked, her movements unsteady, and the moment she saw the man standing by the Honda, she let out a sound that Zacharie heard even through his closed windows.
A sob.
A name, maybe.
And then she was running.
Running across the parking lot, her heels clicking against the asphalt—
Zacharie’s chest felt like it had turned into lead as he watched her sob in another man’s arms.
The sight...disturbed him.
Increasingly.
By the time she pulled away from the other man, his knuckles had gone white around the steering wheel, and it felt as if his clenched jaw had locked into place.
Who the hell was that?
****
