“The one with the scar through his left eyebrow who smelled like cheap cologne and had these dead, cold eyes. The short one with the gold tooth who kept cracking his knuckles—nervous habit, like he was always ready for a fight. The tall one with the snake tattoo curling up his neck who wouldn’t stop laughing at everything, evenwhile they were... doing it. The heavy-set one with a pronounced limp who positioned himself by the door like a guard, watching for witnesses. And the one in the expensive suit with manicured nails who gave all the orders—clearly the man in charge.” I look up at Blue. “Those are the five I remember from that night. The ones I watched from the closet while they killed my father.”
Blue’s face has gone very still. “Saylor—”
“There were others, weren’t there? The one who gave the order. The one who planned it. The one who decided my father had to die.” I add another line to my list. “I want all of them. Every single person involved.”
I slide the paper across the table to Blue. He reads it slowly, his expression growing darker with each line.
“You know them,” I say. “I can see it in your face. You know exactly who I’m talking about.”
Blue sets the paper down carefully. “I have a pretty good idea... yeah.”
“Good. Now you know exactly who I want dead.”
“Killing them won’t bring your father back.”
“No, but it’ll make sure they can’t kill anyone else’s father.” I lean back in my chair. “You said the Crow multiply. That simply getting rid of these won’t change anything.”
Blue nods slowly. “They recruit constantly. Kill four, six more take their place.”
“Good.” I smile, and I know it’s not a nice smile. “Let’s kill them all.”
The silence stretches between us for a long moment. Blue studies my face like he’s seeing me for the first time.
“You’re serious.”
“Dead serious. No pun intended.”
“You have no idea how to be a killer, Saylor. It’s not something you just decide to do one day.”
“That’s why I need a teacher.” I gesture to him. “And you’re the best one I’m likely to find.”
“I told you, I’m retired.”
“From killing, yes. But not from teaching.” I lean forward again.“Show me how. Help me become someone who can end this. I stay here, which makes you happy, but I get what I want. A win, win.”
Blue is quiet for so long I think he’s going to refuse. When he finally speaks, it’s barely above a whisper.
“Your father would hate this. Everything about it.”
“My father is dead because he tried to save people the nice way. Maybe it’s time someone tried the other way.”
“And if I refuse?”
“Then I’ll figure it out on my own. I’ll make mistakes, probably get myself killed, and accomplish nothing except adding one more body to their count.” I shrug. “But I’m going to try either way. The only question is whether you’re going to help me do it right.”
Blue picks up the paper again, reading over my list. “You understand what you’re asking me to become again? What you’re asking yourself to become?”
“I understand that these men killed my father while I watched, helpless. I understand that they’re still out there, still killing, still destroying families.” I meet his eyes. “I understand that if someone doesn’t stop them, they’ll keep doing it forever.”
“And you want to be that someone.”
“I want to be their nightmare. I want to be the thing they see coming in their last moments. I want them to know exactly why they’re dying.” The words come out harder than I intended, but I don’t soften them. “Can you teach me how to do that?”
Blue folds the paper carefully and slips it into his jacket pocket. “We’ll see.”
“We’ll see?” I stare at him. “That’s what adults say to children when they want to placate them without actually committing to anything. I’m not a child, Blue.”
“I know you’re not.”
