Page 85 of Taken Off Camera
No shock.
No laughter.
Only a faint hum of agreement as we switch breakfast topics from syrup to stabbing. Gabriel refills his coffee while someone passes the jam, and Milo slathers it onto his toast as though this were the most natural thing in the world.
Someone laughs, like this is all one long-running family joke.
Except no one smiles.
My fork hovers halfway to my mouth. Are they serious? Theysoundserious, and I can’t decide if I want them to be.
Sebastian doesn’t even blink, and somehow that’s worse. The whole table moves in perfect rhythm, and I’m the only one who realizes the world has tilted sideways.
Slowly, I turn to Jade. “What?”
He shrugs, shoveling a bite of pancakes into his mouth and talking around it. “Your stalker. Travis. Sebastian mentioned how you’re worried the police won’t take you seriously, and unfortunately, you’re right. So we’ll handle it ourselves.” He swallows and takes a swig of coffee. “It’s what family is for.”
My stomach twists into a tight knot, the eggs I ate turning sour, and I struggle to swallow.
Sebastian’s hand finds my knee under the table, his palm radiating warmth through my jeans. The squeeze of his fingers suggests reassurance, but his face remains impassive, unsurprised by the casual mention of murder at his family breakfast table.
“Excellent idea,” Saint says beside me, leaning back in his chair with a creak of wood. His posture opens, shoulders relaxing as a predatory grin spreads across his face. “Where do you dump your bodies? I, for one, am a fan of the old limestone quarry outside Ashford Heights. The water table runs deep there, so bodies never surface.”
My blood runs cold at how easily Saint inserts himself into the conversation, as if this darkness has always belonged to him. But he’s always been the barrier between me and the uglier side of what we do. I find the stalkers, he handles them. I never asked how. Never wanted to know. The distance preserved my conscience.
As he reaches for another slice of bacon, calm and unbothered, I see through the fragile veneer of civility I’ve wrapped around us. We survived the foster system through his willingness to hurt others before they hurt us.
Sitting here now, watching him fit so seamlessly into this family of elegant predators, forces me to confront the reality I’ve avoided. He may be the gun in our relationship, but I’ve always been the one to pull the trigger.
“Hydrofluoric acid is better,” Jade counters, while I spiral inside. “Four hours, and there’s no worry about evidence surfacing later.”
“But the fumes.” Milo wrinkles his delicate nose. “I’m a fan of the classics. Concrete’s cleaner.”
“We can’t have bodies in the foundations of all of our buildings,” Gabriel counters. “That’s begging for trouble.”
A joke. I think. Ihope.
Milo rolls his eyes. “Put them in your competitor’s builds, obviously.”
Phoenix shifts on Damien’s lap. “Can we not discuss dissolving people while I’m eating?”
“Squeamish?” Gabriel teases.
“Practical. Some things,” Damien says, his arm tightening around Phoenix’s waist, “are better discussed in private.”
“Enough,” Sebastian cuts in. “This is neither the time nor the place.”
“What, you want us to pretend we can’t handle this?” Jade surges to his feet, his palms flat on the table. “Someone is threatening your Omega. We eliminate threats.”
Sebastian’s fingers tighten on my knee. “Micah doesn’t need the specifics.”
My head snaps toward him, pulse quickening. Not ‘we don’t eliminate people.’ Not ‘that’s not how we operate.’ Simply:Micah doesn’t need the specifics.
“I think I do,” I counter, steadier than I feel. “If you’re planning to…to kill someone on my behalf, I should know.”
Sebastian’s scarred face remains neutral. “No one’s killing anyone without exploring all options first.”
“That’s not a denial,” I say.
