Ethan folded to his knees a breath later, forehead in his hands, the kind of defeat that eats the edges of men who thought money could keep them safe.
Xavier let the silence sit a beat longer than anyone else. He crouched, one hand hovering near where Maximillian's throat had been, not to touch but to mark the end. He didn't savor the moment in a way that would make him soft later. He held it like a receipt: the cost paid, the balance zero.
Ethan was still frozen in place, staring at where Maximillian's body was like it hadn't really died. Like it could still get up and fix everything. The illusion cracked when Xavier walked past him without care, and took out a case from his jacket.
He turned to Viola and handed it to her without a word. She understood, taking it gently and slipping it behind her back. Ethan's eyes followed the motion, and when the pieces clicked, something snapped in him.
"You…" His voice shredded halfway through the word. "You were with him?"
