Elias went to the nearest sink in the hallway to wash his hands and face. The water ran cold at first, stinging the small cut on his knuckle from where he'd gripped the gun too hard. He kept panting fast, chest rising and falling like he'd run a mile. His reflection in the mirror looked strange. It was his first time killing someone. Not just anyone. Nathan Caldwell.
He scrubbed his hands harder, soap foaming between his fingers. Nathan's father had been nice to him once... always smiling and always pushing for Nathan to marry Elias, as if it was already decided. Domineering, though. Like the Caldwells thought Elias belonged to them. Like he owed them something.
Elias gagged as the memory hit him again with Nathan's hand over his mouth, the press of his body, and the smell of his cologne mixed with sweat. He bent over the sink, stomach heaving, almost vomiting until a firm hand patted his back.
It was Marco.
Marco's voice was low, steady. "It's okay. Breathe slow."
