He stepped out of the shadows, a crystal glass of scotch in his hand.

The ice clinked against the glass as he took a slow sip.

He had taken off his suit jacket, and his white shirt was unbuttoned at the collar.

He looked relaxed, like a man who already owned the room, the house, and everyone in it.

“I was checking on Ethan,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

“He isn’t going anywhere,” Jason said, walking slowly toward the desk. “You don’t need to waste your time sitting by a corpse.”

“He is your cousin,” I said.

“He is a liability,” Jason corrected. “And tomorrow, he becomes history.”

He set his glass down on the edge of the desk, right next to the folder.

He leaned forward, placing both hands on the dark wood, looking up at me.

“Let’s talk about your future, Sarah,” he said.

The wind outside slammed against the glass of the French doors.

A sudden gust rattled the frame, and a shadow moved in the courtyard outside.

I stared at Jason, my pulse racing, waiting for his next move.