[✔️] 𝑇𝐻𝐼𝑁𝐾 𝑂𝐹 𝑀𝐸 | 𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐆𝐎 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐒

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐕𝐄

𝐌𝐘 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐅𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋
"𝐼𝑡 𝑎𝑙𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑖𝑠 ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑙𝑒𝑓𝑡 𝑏𝑒ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑔𝑜 . . ."
—𝐵𝑜𝑑𝑖𝑒 𝑇ℎ𝑜𝑒𝑛𝑒; 𝐵𝑟𝑜𝑐𝑘 𝑇ℎ𝑜𝑒𝑛𝑒, 𝑆ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑜ℎ 𝐴𝑢𝑡𝑢𝑚𝑛

𝐈
— 𝐷𝑖𝑒𝑔𝑜 —

𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀 little past eight in the morning when Diego woke up, and he didn't let the sunlight that streamed in bother him as he rubbed his eyes and let out a yawn.

A small smile crept onto his face as he gazed down and fondly watched Mara sleep, and his smile broadened as she nestled closer into him.

Though his smile soon contorted into a frown as he let out a small sigh, and his grip around her tightened; he figured they should probably clean Elliott up, but he wasn't too sure that she'd be able to handle it.

Knowing that Mara probably wouldn't wake up for a couple of more hours—being the deep sleeper she was—he kissed her forehead and slipped out of bed.

He was still wearing the same clothes as the night before—his orange button-up that was unbuttoned to reveal his black undershirt, and a pair of black jeans—so he didn't bother changing into anything before he headed into the living room.

Luther was already there, standing next to Elliott with a scrunched nose. He looked up to Diego and nodded towards the body. "What do we do?"

Diego sighed as he walked over to the side of the chair. "Clean him up." 

"Where's Mara?" questioned Luther as Diego began to pull out the assorted tools that were prying Elliott's mouth open.

Diego glanced back at their bedroom before looking back to the body. "Still sleeping. I didn't want her to see this."

"Ah." Luther nodded.

Diego wrinkled his nose as he examined the blood-stained body with all the weapons that were stabbed into it, and he began to work.

As soon as Diego had pulled out the last weapon and tossed it to the side, Luther draped a teal cloth over Elliott's body as he remarked, "I can't believe Elliott's dead."

"He was a good guy." Diego sighed, his eyebrows furrowing as he stared at the lump. "Deserved better than this."

"Yeah," agreed Luther with a small nod.

Diego turned around to face the front of the building, his eyebrows furrowing further as he suddenly realized, "Elliott must've been getting too close to the truth. It smells like the feds."

"What?" Luther questioned as Diego stepped up to the railing and clutched the top of the metal bar. "Are you out of your mind? Diego, if this was the federal government, they would take him somewhere and question him. They wouldn't . . . do this. No, this is the work of a psychopath."

Diego couldn't help but agree with him, though he didn't give Luther the pleasure of knowing that. Instead, he focused on the bloody writing on the ground of the floor below him, and read out, "'Öga Föröga.' That a name?"

Luther came to his side and muttered the name aloud, thinking about it to himself for a moment. He gave a small sniff as he looked at Diego, and he shrugged. "I'll look her up."

Diego followed Luther into the kitchen, where the larger man grabbed the phonebook off of the fridge and began to flip through as Diego sat on the edge of the table.