Now? That grizzly bear was old, wounded, and haggard. The fox, cunning and smart as it was, smelled an opportunity.
“And when they defeat us, they’re coming for you. Even if you hadn’t helped us in the past, they would still hunt you down. You’re still a Carter, Cole. I… I need your help.”
“When they defeat us… I need your help.”
It was almost like I’d gotten dropped in a surreal dream, one in which the normal rules of reality no longer applied. I had no fucking clue how to make sense of any of this. Lane wasn’t… Cole wasn’t…
Life wasn’t…
“Brother, I want to fight by your side,” Cole said. I barely even flinched at what was said anymore. I was numb to it all. “But I will not fight under you or before you. If you want help, we do it as partners. As father intended. As co-Presidents.”
Lane almost opened his mouth but Butch, right by his side, put a hand on his shoulder. The message was evident—shut the hell up and think about it.
“Damn straight,” I said quietly.
Not quietly enough, though. Cole glared at me. I actually gulped in guilt. I was letting my pride get in the way of things—much as how Lane was letting his.And this is how shit continues.
“You know how to reach me,” Cole said.
Without another word, the three of us departed for our bikes, which had not been damaged in the blast or fallout. But my certainty as to our relations with the Black Reapers had only been muddled. Were they the friends that Cole and Lane had perhaps hoped they could be after an attack like this?
Or were we really the enemies who had nearly torn at each other’s throats in their church hall?
