ELIJAH'S POV
The drive to the storage facility felt like traveling through a dream. My hands gripped the steering wheel tight, but my mind kept drifting back to Isaac. The crash. The flames. The way my operative had said "we think we got him" like he was discussing the weather.
I should have felt something. Guilt maybe. Some kind of human reaction to orchestrating my half-brother's death. Instead, all I felt was a cold satisfaction settling in my chest like ice water. Isaac had been a problem. Now he wasn't.
That was how the world worked. Problems got solved. One way or another.
The red and blue lights appeared in my headlights about ten miles from the storage facility. Police cars, fire trucks, an ambulance parked at odd angles on the shoulder of the highway. The crash scene. Isaac's crash scene.
