Page 24 of Dark Soul

Dark looked where the man pointed. He must have scratched his hand against the sled when he’d plucked the boy off.

“And you’re holding yourself funny,” Slate continued. “Ribs, or shoulder?”

Dark reminded himself the man was a medic, not psychic.

“Left shoulder. But never mind that.” He sighed. “I made contact with Alexia Miller.”

“I thought Rogue was going to do that?” Ash asked slowly, without looking up from his game.

“Yes. This wasn’t planned. Kvyat’s kid got in some trouble with his sled …”

“And you swooped in like a knight in shining armor to save the day?” Rogue asked, arching an eyebrow.

Dark held his stare. He wasn’t going to fucking apologize. “I’ve made contact, and that’s what matters. I’m meeting up for coffee with her tomorrow night.”

“Coffee?” Again, that eyebrow.

“Coffee.”

“Where’s Griffin?” Dark asked, just as the man walked into the room.

“I’m here,” he said. He looked at the empty chair beside his brother, then pointedly walked around to the other side of the table tennis table, even though there were no chairs there and he had to perch on the edge.

The silence lengthened, the seconds stretching uncomfortably, making the room felt smaller than it was.

And then Slate stood up abruptly. “When the fuck are you going to forgive me?” he growled, gripping the edge of the table.

“You really want to do this now?” Griffin asked, his voice deceptively soft.

“It’s not like they can’t see how you treat me,” Slate said angrily. “Answer the damn question. When are you going to forgive me?”

On the other side of the table, Griffin stood up to his full height, which was still a couple of inches shorter than his brother.

“For throwing away your life after I worked so hard to give it back to you?” he snarled.

His words were like a needle, deflating Slate’s anger, leaving only intense sadness behind.

“You’re an asshole, Griffin. You might have the highest IQ in this room, but you don’t understand anything,” Slate said. “Sorry, guys, I need a bit of fresh air. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Rogue and Ash exchanged a look.

“I’m going upstairs to grab some food,” Rogue said.

“Me too.”

Moments later, Dark and Griffin were alone in the room. Griffin stared at him defiantly, as if daring him to say something.

Dark cleared his throat. The bad blood between the brothers obviously had something to do with the redacted part of their files. Something had happened to Slate in Kabul. Whatever it was, though, he couldn’t let it fester, not when the team was so new and trust was still so shaky between them.

"I’m not going to claim to understand what’s going on between you and your brother,” Dark began.

“You’ve probably read about it in our files.”

“Some. But most of it was heavily redacted.”

Griffin snorted. “Yeah. It would be.”

“I can fill in some of the blanks. I know whatever you did that landed you in prison happened around the time your brother was imprisoned in Kabul. That’s quite a coincidence.”