Page 104 of Vital Signs
Shepherd nodded. "I'll have it ready by tomorrow night."
Hunter leaned closer to me, voice low. "The Factory?"
"Shepherd's property," I whispered back. "Where the family handles its more... complicated problems."
"Leo and I can hack his calendar," Xavier offered, arm possessively around Leo's shoulders. "And his home security system. He’ll be more vulnerable at home."
“We can do it in two teams,” Xander suggested. “One at his home, the other at the clinic. When we see an opening, we take it.”
Hunter's eyes caught mine. A nod. Understanding passed between us. This wasn't what we'd planned, but it was better. Wright wouldn't just die for his crimes. He'd become the weapon we used against the entire corrupt system.
The family dispersed to prepare, dinner forgotten. I pulled Hunter into the hallway, watching as he rolled his shoulders, tension visible in every line of his body.
"You okay?" I asked.
His eyes met mine, conflicted. "When I asked about torture back there... I wasn't suggesting it."
I studied his face. "I know."
He looked down at his hands. "Being a part of this... it feels too much like going backward."
"You don't have to do this part," I told him. "Not the interrogation."
"I'm not letting you face this alone."
"Then be there as a witness," I said. "Keep him alive long enough to talk. You don't have to be the one who hurts him."
Relief flickered across his face, quickly masked. "I would. If it meant keeping you safe."
"I know." I kissed him softly. "But you won't have to."
His eyes held mine, understanding passing between us without words. In the quiet of that hallway, with the family preparing for war in the next room, I made my choice. Hunter had spent enough of his life destroying. I wouldn't ask him to break that promise to himself.
Wright's torture would be my sin to carry, not his.
Tyler looked peaceful onthe preparation table. Misha had cleaned him carefully, dressed him in clothes that actually fit—a simple black t-shirt, dark jeans that didn't hang off his frame. The chest binder was gone, replaced with something that looked natural. Right.
"He looks good," I said, voice rougher than I wanted. "Like himself."
Misha nodded from beside me, hands folded behind his back. "I wanted him to have dignity. To look like the person he was, not what others tried to make him."
I brushed my fingers against Tyler's forehead. "I'm sorry I couldn't protect you," I whispered.
The words hung in the quiet room. Misha didn't try to comfort me with bullshit about how it wasn't my fault. He just stood there, letting me say what I needed to say.
"Wright's going to pay," I continued. "For you. For all of them. I promise."
I leaned down, pressed my lips to Tyler's cold forehead. A goodbye. A vow. A benediction for the dead and the living.
River appeared in the doorway. "It's time."
The cremation chamber was smaller than I'd expected, and more welcoming instead of the cold, industrial room I’d imagined. River operated the controls. The door sealed with a soft hiss, and the machine hummed to life.
"Four to six hours," River said, checking the temperature gauges. "I'll monitor the process."
I nodded, throat too tight to speak. My chest constricted, lungs fighting for air. The finality of it crashed into me. Tyler was really gone. Had been gone since that night in the snow, but this made it real. Permanent.
"I need some air," I managed.
