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God, I’ll kill them both.

My nails drag hard over my forearm beneath the table. Pain sparks in a bright line. Something to keep me present.

A sharp exhale comes from across the table. “Which is exactly the problem. If anyone comes looking for her, they’ll find her right here. I can only suppress so much.”

Of course Patrick says that like he’s Atlas carrying the world. With his special Attorney General powers, he can make problems disappear with as little as a phone call. That privilege has made him lazy.

Alfred Rockwell leans forward, quick as ever to come up with a solution. “Then control the narrative.”

Patrick glares at me. “You had to bring a random girl into the Order. This all could have been avoided.”

My fist aches to connect with his skull when he mentions her.

“Asher Zapera was one of us,” I say. “His sister came with his medallion, and the Order should respect what that means. What matters now is getting him justice and keeping her alive.”

He leans back. “You see? Emotional. He can’t separate the girl from his duty to the Order, which should be above all else.”

I stand abruptly, chair scraping against the mahogany floor. Patrick stands too, like a dog following its master. But he breaks too easily to be intimidating.

Zaiya’s safety is not negotiable. I promised her protection, and I’ll make the world suffer before I become a liar. The only fear I want her to know is the kind I give her deliberately, when I teach her how exquisitely it can bring pleasure.

“Gentlemen,” Senator Alcott says, calm as ever, “you are still being judged. I encourage you to remain civilized.”

Patrick smiles thinly. “My issue here is exposure.”

I exhale through my nose, ready to end this.

“Run a story through Marshall at the Register,” I say. “Road rage. Fender bender at a country intersection, wrong man with a gun. People believe simple violence. Then they’ll move on.”

“At three in the morning? No one will buy it.”

“They will if the paperwork matches.”

I check the time on my phone. This has taken far too long. I need to get my hands on Zaiya. I need to see her. Ever since I got my cock in that sweet little pussy, the craving for her has become insufferable.

“I won’t put my name on something flimsy.” He folds his arms across his chest, petulant as a child.

“Then what’s your recommendation, Mr. Connelly?” Alcott asks.

Patrick steeples his fingers. “Say Miss Zapera killed her brother. It’s already been reported she was unstable. It makes sense.”

I picture Zaiya hearing it. Asher dead, and his murder pinned on the person who loved him most.

I don’t bother disguising the disgust on my face.

Alcott glances between us. “And the issue of people looking for the sister?”

“Say she’s dead, too. Body found in a field. Self-inflicted gunshot wound. Death certificate issued. End of story.”

“No,” I say flatly.

Declaring her dead would erase her from the world and trap her here under a lie she never agreed to.

That oily little smile turns my way. “You don’t get to be her soft boyfriend here. This is serious business that takes a firm decision.”

He looks back at the Council with the hope that they approve of his expert leadership. They meet his stare blankly.

“I’m not letting you tarnish her name to make your job easier. If you need two bodies in the story, then say someone else shot them.”