“Stay.”

X caught his arm, and turned him like a child. As the first images appeared, the warden covered his mouth. He’d never cared for Byrd, but no man should die as he had, and no one else should be forced to watch it, let alone be forced to watch it twice. Byrd’s torture did not faze X, of course, but he was affected. That was clear. But the warden had no idea how or why.

“It’s Reece,” X said. “You can’t see his face, of course—that would be foolish of him, even knowing what he knows—but it’s definitely Reece.”

“What does he know?”

“That I would never allow the police to see this tape. That what exists between us is personal.” X squatted in front of the television, his face only inches away from the screen. “How long does this last?”

“This part, umm, seven or eight minutes.”

“This part?”

“Killing Byrd, I mean. Something else comes after.”

“Show me.”

The warden almost fell in his rush to clear the screen of Byrd’s murder. He ran the tape forward, overshot the mark, and had to back up. “Here. Just here.” He stepped back as the scene changed to show a young man bound to a chair, a blade at his throat as he struggled. “That’s Jason French’s little brother.”

But X knew the boy; the warden could tell. It showed in the sudden, lock-jawed stillness, and in the flush of blood that made his face swell. It was pure rage, fury like nothing the warden had ever seen. Even his eyes looked hot enough to burn.

“Play it again.”

But the warden didn’t move. “There’s more,” he said.

The more was a blank wall, and an off-camera voice.

You shouldn’t have sent Byrd to my home. All our time together, and it ends because of what? A girl. Because you couldn’t allow me that one indulgence.

A soft exhalation could be heard on the tape.

Problem is, I know you too well. If you want me dead now, you’ll want me dead until the day it happens. That won’t change once they kill you. More like Byrd will come, an unbroken chain, and all because I belittled your precious trust. Do you see how much I hate for it to end like this?

Another sigh, as good as a lament.