Page 134 of The Next Lie

“You think I knew she lived.”

“I think you know many things you do not report.”

“Then you trained me well.”

“You are still valuable when you remember that training.”

The words are praise. They are also a hook.

She has not cut me loose. That is the point. She wants me aware of the string, aware that it still exists, aware that she can tighten it whenever she chooses.

I let my shoulders settle. Soldier. Asset. Trusted knife.

Not protector.

Not traitor.

Not yet, anyway.

She walks past me toward the foyer, and I follow because that’s what she expects.

At the archway, she stops and looks up the stairs. Delia is not visible, but the house holds her like a secret kept in an upstairs room.

“Delia will remain home until she remembers how to behave. She is a Rosario, and it’s time she recalled that.”

“She had reason.”

Isabel’s chin lifts. “There are no reasons, only lessons.”

“She may not be cold enough for this.”

“No.” Isabel’s mouth flattens. “We’ll have to work on that.”

I don’t like the sound of that.

“Don’t punish her for being shocked.”

She turns her head toward me, tilted in warning.

I bow mine by a fraction. “I only mean she’s more useful steady.”

That’s the language she accepts. Not mercy. Utility.

Isabel studies me, then looks back up the stairs. “Perhaps.”

The front door waits beyond us, tall and dark and carved with old saints who have watched worse men than me pretend they are righteous.

“I assume you want me to handle the…complication,” I say.

“You assume correctly. She walked into my city wearing my dead business on her face.”

“She won’t leave quietly,” I say.

“I would be disappointed if she did.” Isabel turns toward me fully. “But then…she won’t be leaving at all…will she?”

My fingers curl once at my side, and her eyes drop to the movement. I relax my hand but it’s too late.

“It’s late, and you’re tired,” she says. “Go home and consider the best way to clean up this mess.”