Which…
“Get that done as soon as you can and let me know when you’ve been replaced. Then make your way back.”
“Understood.”
I felt very uneasy about all the possible ways the King’s Men could strike at us. That was probably half of the power of winning the mind games; the battle didn’t end with the last attack. It never fucking ended until surrender or death came. It was kind of a fucking terrifying prospect.
But the only way to overcome that fucking terror and unease was to just take fucking action after I’d prioritized. My father’s house would have to remain a fucking mess for now. There were no secret codes, no hidden items about the Devil’s Patriots here, that I needed to check for. Sad as it was, sentimentality didn’t matter right now.
The only thing that mattered was survival.
And though I would never say it to anyone else in the Black Reapers or Devil’s Patriots, even that was not a guarantee—or a likely outcome.
