Page 101 of Torin

“What did you do with the body?”

“Dropped him down a ravine.”

Gunnar lets out a breath. “Where?”

“Far from their territory.”

“Anyone likely to find him?”

“Eventually.”

“And if they do?”

“They’ll know he lost a fight.”

“Doesn’t mean they won’t start asking who with.”

“I know.”

“Branson’s going to tear the mountain apart looking for him.”

“Probably.”

“And if he finds anything that leads back here⁠—”

“He won’t.”

Gunnar considers that, then nods.

I wait for someone to tell Torin he was out of his mind. To ask whether killing Cade was really necessary.

Nobody does.

They’re not pretending it didn’t happen. They’re not celebrating it either. They’ve simply accepted it, as though Cade crossed a line, and this was what happened afterward.

Alexandria reaches for the coffee pot. “Anyone want another?”

Gunnar holds out his mug. Orson does the same.

I stare at them.

They’re having more coffee.

Torin killed someone yesterday, they’ve spent five minutes discussing where he dumped the body, and now they’re having more coffee.

Alexandria looks at me. “Hannah?”

“Sorry?”

“Coffee?”

“Oh. No, thanks.”

She fills Gunnar’s mug.

I look at Torin.

The bruising around his eye is darker in the daylight. There’s a cut across his cheekbone, and I know what the rest of him looks like beneath his T-shirt.