He'd watched him walk away—no, he'd let him. It was all his fault. It had to have been. Peter had thought Neal had been making progress, but clearly, he'd misjudged him yet again. What had ever possessed him to think that a man who smiled for a living was one he could trust? Admittedly, he'd never stated it outright, but it had been unspoken. In that moment they shared around the enigma machine in the face of death, the unspoken words of trust and love and appreciation spoke volumes through the impenetrable silence.

But now, that was gone. Broken beyond repair, all because of Neal's desire for anything and everything off of which he could make a quick dollar. He didn't care who got hurt along the way. And it wasn't just Peter himself who would be hurt by this. There was Sara now. His girlfriend, or at least she seemed to be that. There was El, who had put so much of her faith in him and, according to what she'd told him in bed the evening prior, had even told Sara that when it counted, Neal was able to be trusted.

How wrong she'd been. How wrong they all had been. Neal had pulled the wool over their eyes all along. He was sure Alex was involved in this; the blame could rest squarely on her shoulders as far as he was concerned. It would become a priority of his to catch her, even for the simplest of frauds.

Sighing, he unlocked the front door and wandered inside, shrugging his jacket off immediately.

"Hon?" El's voice echoed in the silence of the darkened living room. She turned on the lamp beside the couch. "What's wrong?"

He sighed and shook his head. "It's over, El. It's all over."