The next day, Taeryn and Rihan stayed far away from each other.
Rihan remained in the hotel room, while Taeryn locked himself in the company branch office, drowning in paperwork. He was working on official reports of the raid, casualty numbers, sanitized summaries of violence, dressed up as success.
And it was a success.
The Cullers facilities across the country had collapsed overnight. The captives were transferred to hospitals after signing binding silence contracts. Bodies were removed. Evidence scrubbed clean. By morning, the news was already unraveling with missing persons resurfacing, fragmented testimonies about the Cullers leaking through despite the clean-up.
The media was in chaos.
Taeryn couldn't care less.
The case was over. That should have been enough.
It wasn't.
Rihan was the problem.
Taeryn absently brushed his fingers over the healing cut near his eye, then his split lip. Damage he hadn't bothered fixing immediately. He'd been distracted.
Sixteen hours.
