This is the first time one of X’s little tasks has hit so close to home. Usually, it’s shit we don’t know anything about and don’t want to know about. Random acts of arson, theft, and other dirty work like that. Now he’s asking for someone we know. Someone in our fucking home. Anger fills me, bitter and raw. I curl my fingers into fists, glaring at the screen until the image of Willow’s face blurs a bit. Everything in me is screaming no. No, we won’t do it. We can’t do it.
