"I'm a consultant," he corrected. "I find patterns. Right now, the pattern I'm most interested in is you."
"Why?"
He moved closer, and I caught his scent beneath the copper and chemicals. Expensive cologne, whiskey, and something uniquely Nathan that made my brain catalog it for later examination.
"Because you're impossible," he said simply. "A girl who shouldn't exist, doing things that should horrify me, humming lullabies while you take apart the world's monsters. You're the most interesting pattern I've ever found."
"I'm broken." The words came out without permission. "Gabriel broke me and remade me and I don't know how to be anything else."
"Maybe." His hand found mine, bloody fingers interlacing. "Or maybe you're exactly what you're supposed to be. Maybe the world needs broken things to cut out its cancers."
Carter's breathing had stopped. I checked his pulse to be sure, then nodded.
"Help me wrap him," I said. "I know a place that processes special waste. No questions asked."
We worked together to clean the scene, plastic crinkling as we wrapped Carter's body, bleach sharp in the air as we scrubbed away evidence. Nathan proved as meticulous about crime scene cleanup as he was about everything else.
"You're taking this remarkably well," I said as we finished. "Most people would be having a crisis right about now."
"I had my crisis years ago." He helped me carry supplies back to my storage area. "Decided moral absolutism was a luxury I couldn't afford in my line of work. Sometimes the system fails. Sometimes justice needs help."
"And sometimes men who hurt children need to die in basements."
"Exactly." He washed his hands in the industrial sink I'd installed, movements precise and thorough. "Though next time, maybe wait until after hours? Less chance of interruption."
"Next time?" I tried to read his expression. "You're assuming there'll be a next time."
"Tuesday. The Volkovs. You'll need backup if Dimitri's bringing security." He dried his hands, watching my face. "Unless you'd prefer to work alone."
The offer hung between us. Partnership in something darker than either of us had named yet. I should have refused—I'd always worked alone, had to work alone. But I thought about moving Carter's body by myself versus how easy it had been with help. Thought about someone watching the exits while I worked. Thought about not being alone in the dark with only corpses and lullabies for company.
"You don't even know me," I said.
"I know enough." He straightened his cuffs, the gesture somehow grounding after all the chaos. "I know you're hunting the same network I've been tracking. I know you're effective but reckless. I know you're looking for someone who might not want to be found."
"Gabriel—"
"Is either dead or has abandoned you." The words were gentle but firm. "Either way, you're here, doing this, without him. That means something."
"It means I'm lost." I hadn't meant to say it, but truth kept spilling out around Nathan Cross. "He was my north star. Without him, I'm just... floating. Following patterns because I don't know what else to do."
"Then float with purpose." He moved closer, backing me against the wall with that controlled intensity that made my pulse race. "Float toward something instead of away. The work needs doing either way."
"The work." I laughed, short and sharp. "Is that what we're calling it?"
"What would you call it?"
I thought about Carter's fingers lined up like piano keys. About the twins he'd sold. About Gregory Marsh and all the others who'd thought flesh was currency.
"Housekeeping," I said finally. "Cleaning up messes that shouldn't exist."
"Then let me help you clean." His hands braced on either side of me, caging me in without touching. "I'm very good at making things disappear. People, evidence, problems. It's what I do."
"What about Lilah? Don't you have to report back to her parents?"
"Lilah is dead." His eyes held mine, green depths that promised to keep all my secrets. "Has been for months. What I found instead is something far more interesting."
"A killer."
