For Shannon? Partially.
But also for everyone else who had died.
And maybe, on some level, justice for myself. Justice to know that not everyone who got near me died. Justice to know that my mother, my father, my brother’s dream woman, and my peers had not died because I was worthless.
It was too bad I hadn’t found that justice yet. I wasn’t entirely sure I ever would.
“Well, I’m happy to have you back in the fold, even if it involved some serious fuckups along the way on my part,” Lane said.
The ownership part rang a bit hollow. It was my fault too. But I let it go.
“Thanks, Lane,” I said.
As soon as a momentary silence came, I took full advantage of it. I rose, patted him again on the shoulder, and walked out before another word could be said. I had to find a way out of the web of lies.
But how?
I walked past Phoenix, who called my name. I paused, looked back, and kept walking to the bike. I leaned against it when he caught up to me.
“I’m sorry, man, I didn’t... Butch and I share reports, I didn’t think anything of it—”
“You’re fine,” I said. “You didn’t tell him about Lilly?”
Phoenix shook his head.
“Is there anything to that?” he asked.
I shook my head.
“Nothing of importance,” I said, which was, at best, the vaguest answer I could give and at worst, another lie. “Just don’t tell Butch, OK? I’m trying to get information from her and trying to get her out of here. The more people know, the worse things get.”
“Understood,” Phoenix said.
He would not betray me. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t see the doubt and suspicion in his eyes.
I hopped on my bike and revved the engine. Just before I left, I saw Patriot stealing a glance of me. He was the only current member of the Black Reapers who knew the truth. And perhaps out of a code of silence, he wasn’t going to say anything.
But, again, silence did not mean free of judgment. In fact, if anything, it made it easier for the judgment in my head to get louder and louder.
I headed home, my head an absolute mess, uncertain of what I was going to do. Why was I acting this way? I just needed to be a little more like Lane—a little more asshole, a little more “do it my way,” and a little more certain. I needed to get all of the information I could out of Lilly, send her on her way, and forget that this stupid little dance had ever become anything.
But as soon as I got home and saw her on the couch, I felt the same surge of feelings that I had felt all week. I felt compelled to care for her. She was not the daughter of Lucius, a fugitive; she was a complex, interesting, and deep person trying to figure out herself, just as I was.
“Hey,” she said. “How were things at the meeting?”
“Good, good,” I said. “How were things here?”
“Good, good.”
God, we were the epitome of small talk. And God, it was so awkward.
I sat in silence on the other end of the couch, “watching” whatever was on the TV before I finally cracked.
“Lilly, what’s the plan?”
She looked at me perplexed, but I knew it was a façade.
“The plan?”
