The words hit him harder than anything else.
Around the table, glasses lifted.
Moose, Bear, Swampy, Gods, Ridge, JD, even Rowan.
Her hand was shaking, but she lifted her glass anyway. Her eyes stayed fixed on the table in front of her, unable to look at Peter.
Peter looked around, confusion creeping in. “What’s going on? What is this? You gonna kill me, then get on with it. I won’t beg for my life. I’ve given too much to this club to start begging now.”
“No begging necessary,” JD said. He stood up and poured another glass of whisky out before sliding it over to Confessor.
Gods’ voice was calm behind Confessor. “This is your retirement drink.”
“Retirement? You sending me out to pasture? Fine, fuck all of you then.” He picked up his glass and threw the whiskey to theback of his throat without hesitation. “I’ll be glad of it. Be glad to be rid of you all.”
His glass didn’t shake from fear, but from age. From the wear and tear that this life brought us. The wear and tear that this life would have on us all eventually.
I looked across the table at my brothers and we drank together, one final toast.
The whiskey burned down my throat and then glasses hit the table almost in unison. Even Rowan’s glass was empty, and when I glanced her way, she had finally looked up. She was staring at Confessor, her eyes glassy and her jaw set tightly in pity.
JD leaned forward again, eyes locked on Peter. “It shouldn’t take long.”
Confessor blinked and let out a shaky laugh, but there was no humor in it. “What?”
“The poison,” Gods said from behind him.
“You’re bluffing,” Confessor replied, though his voice had already begun to thin, the confidence bleeding out of it. “You wouldn’t. You wouldn’t do that to one of your own.”
No one answered. Why would we?
He wasn’t one of ours. Not anymore.
The silence in the Chapel felt heavier than anything I’d experienced before. Even the air seemed to thicken, pressing down on us all.
Confessor shifted in his chair. Then again.
His fingers curled against the edge of the table, knuckles whitening as he flexed them slowly, like he was testing whether they still worked.
“What, what the hell did you give me?” he asked, the edge creeping into his voice now.
JD leaned back in his chair, lifting his empty whiskey glass calmly. “Something that’s going to make the rest of your life real quiet,” he said.
Confessor pushed back from the table, his chair scraping loudly against the wooden floor as he tried to stand. His legs buckled and Gods’ hand came out automatically, gripping his shoulder to stop him from crashing face-first into the table. For a second it almost looked like kindness.
Then Gods pushed him back down into the chair.
JD leaned back calmly. “You should be glad we’re not executin’ you the way you got Rowan’s parents executed.”
“And the way you got your brothers executed,” Bear added quietly.
“I didn’t. I…”
“Bullshit,” Moose muttered.
Peter’s face drained of color.
“I, I can’t feel,” Confessor muttered, his brow furrowing as panic began to take hold. He lifted one hand, staring at it as his fingers trembled uncontrollably.
