“What did you do?” She looks up at me, chest heaving, eyes bright. “I did it. I finally did it.” Together, we look down at the envelope opener buried in his flesh, just above the collarbone. The only sound in the room is Cora’s harsh, unsteady breath. I feel something tugging on my right hand, and I glance over to see that Cora has taken my hand and is holding it against her cheek. Some of Michael’s blood stains my fingers.
