Page 114 of Velvet Corruption

How had the night I’d become DA turned into…this? The headlines were already forming in my head: "Newly Elected DA Involved in Mysterious Death.”

“We need to handle this.”

Kieran’s voice cut through, too calm and collected to be real…right?

I looked up, blinking, dragging my mind back from the edge of the spiral. He was standing now, too casual, like there wasn’t a corpse cooling ten feet away. Like this was business as usual for him.

“Is there anyone else here?” he asked, his tone measured. “Your kid? Your ex?”

I couldn’t find my voice, couldn’t get past the block in my throat, the wall of pressure behind my eyes. I shook my head, forcing myself to focus. I could feel his eyes on me, see the way he was watching. Waiting.

His hands were suddenly on my arms, warm and wet with blood.

“Ruby,” he said. “Look into my eyes, okay? Okay. Good. You’re doing good. I need you to take a deep breath and I need you to answer all my questions, okay? It’s really important that you listen to me right now. Can you do that?”

I blinked. I tried to take a deep breath. Failed.

“I’m alone,” I said finally. My voice sounded strange to my own ears, too thin, too far away. Like it belonged to someone else, someone who wasn’t in the center of this.

He nodded, but his focus never shifted back to the body. He kept it on me, intent and careful, and I knew what he was doing.

“Good,” he said. “Good. See? That makes our lives easier. Okay. Silver lining.”

He had clearly done this before. Fuck, how often had he done this?

I couldn’t listen to him.

There were rules for this. Protocols. I should be calling it in. I should be documenting the scene. I should be—my gaze drifted to Russell, to the way his head was twisted on the staircase, to his broken nose, to the blood on the hardwood, and my stomach gave a sharp, painful twist. He looked wrong. The whole scene did. Unreal. It couldn’t have happened, not here, not to me.

And yet.

The weight of it settled back in, hard and brutal.

“Is your linen closet upstairs?” Kieran asked.

“What?”

“Your linen closet,” he said, as if I just hadn’t heard him. “Is it upstairs?”

“Yes,” I said. “Yes, it’s, uh, up the stairs.”

“Okay. You’re going to go get me a blanket. If you have a dark one, that’s better. Got it? Go there. Come straight back. Alright?”

I nodded, but didn’t move.

“Right now, Rubes,” he said. “We don’t have too much time.”

I told myself to tell him no. But I didn’t. I dragged myself upstairs instead, opened the linen closet, grabbed a dark blue sheet I only ever used for the guest room, and brought it back for him.

Kieran took it from me, his fingers brushing mine, his skin too warm, too close. He unfolded it, taking it away from me, looking at the elastic.

“Shit, it’s fitted? This is going to be a pain in the ass.”

He was about to lean down when I noticed his breath catch.

I forced myself to look at him, reallylookat him.

I wasn’t the only person covered in blood. His side was bleeding and his shirt was sticking to his body.

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