I stared at the body.
“Connor.”
That wasn’t Brock who had spoken. It was Katie. She gulped, looking as scared and vulnerable as I’d ever seen her. Gone was the tough woman who—
No.
That woman wasn’t gone. She was still tough. She had just nearly encountered a situation she could not win. But just as my “loss” from my teenage years didn’t make me soft, her near-loss didn’t make her soft.
If that was the bar for being soft, we all were.
“Can you…take me back to the store?”
“We need to move, Connor,” Brock said. “We saw a bunch of neighbors looking out at us when we arrived. I don’t think they’re Bandits, but I’ll bet you more than anything they’re going to start making calls. Let’s go.”
“Yes, Katie,” I said, holding out my hand. “Come on.”
She took my hand, and I gave it a gentle squeeze. Katie followed me down the stairs, noticeably avoiding looking at Damian’s corpse, as we headed outside. I moved purposefully but not so fast as to drag her along. Even I could have sympathy for something like this.
We hopped on our bikes and all drove back into town. Sheriff Davis, with his lights on, headed down to the house. I knew he would come for us at some point. It was just a matter of time.
And when that time came? We’d do what we needed to do. We’d play the game.
But we’d keep fighting for justice however we could and however the town needed it.
All the way back to the store, Katie rode with her arms wrapped tightly around me. Her grip barely loosened up at any point; it was like she refused to let go, fearful that if she did, she’d slip back into the arms of Damian. And who could blame her? After the nightmare that she’d experience and the reality that the Bandits, down to one leader, would cause trouble, she deserved to be clinging on to me as tightly as she could.
When we go to the store, she hopped off. She looked at me, silently said, “Thank you,” and kissed me on the cheek. I suppose I could have pressed for more, but it would have felt entirely inappropriate. She needed space to decompress, and I did too. Even though I loved fighting and killing Bandits—especially a Bandit named Damian—that didn’t mean I could just go without some detachment.
At some point, even the strongest of soldiers needed a break.
I headed back into town, prepared to crash into my bed and call it a night. But just as I pulled up to the house, I saw a sight that made my knuckles white.
Sheriff Davis was parked outside the house.
But it wasn’t quite as bad as I had feared. For one, his lights weren’t on. His siren wasn’t either. Someone who passed by this neighborhood might have thought he lived at this house, if not for all the motorcycles nearby. I got off my bike and approached the porch.
“Connor.”
Sheriff Davis’ voice came from a chair. It was so dark that I didn’t even see him there.
“The hell you doing here?” I said.
The sheriff gave a bemused chuckle.
“Is that any way to talk to the law?” he said. “I’m here to prevent this whole town from turning into goddamn mayhem.”
He sighed.
“What you and your boys did tonight, Connor, may have been the breaking point that I warned you about earlier. I told you there would come a point where, if things did not stay in your hands, I would have to escalate it to someone larger.”
He let the words linger for a second. I didn’t respond. I wanted him to do all the talking.
“So far, the Bandits have not responded,” Sheriff Davis said. “I know most of you live here, so I’m here to make sure they don’t strike at you.”
“How generous of you.”
“It’s self-serving, don’t get it twisted. You think I want the state and feds thinking I’m incompetent?”
