ELIJAH'S POV
I stared at my hands in the darkness of Valentine's car. Clean hands. Unsullied hands. I hadn't pulled the trigger. I hadn't tied the noose. I hadn't burned a body. I was better than that.
The stench of copper lingered in my nostrils. Three people. Gone. But I hadn't touched them. Murder was not what I had in mind when I wanted to make Imogen pay for her sins.
Valentine's window rolled down with a smooth mechanical whir. The flame of his lighter illuminated his face for a brief moment. He looked peaceful. Like a man without a conscience.
"Something eating at you?" he asked, drawing on his cigar. His voice carried the warmth of a concerned father.
My stomach churned. "You're too calm about this," I said, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. "How can you sit there like nothing happened?"
"Me?" Smoke curled from his lips. "We, Elijah. We did this."
