“Make him see what he’s done—”
“Let him feel it—”
It was obvious what was about to happen. Ryan started to move, but found himself stayed by Tod, the younger man’s SMG placed across Ryan’s torso. The one-eyed man glared at him. No one told Ryan Cawdor what to do.
“You can’t let them do that,” he said. “At least chill the fucker cleanly, or you’re no better.”
“Why?” Tod questioned. “Let them. Call it payback.”
“He’s right,” J.B. said. The Armorer’s tone was cold.
“But—”
“Ryan, this isn’t our fight. Let them deal with it their way. They’ve got to make this ville again. ’Sides which, it could have been me going through that, and that coldheart fucker wouldn’t have stopped it for anything.”
“Your man speaks the truth,” Tod intoned. “Let it go at that.”
He turned and left them, following the last remnants of the crowd as they ebbed and flowed toward the lab sector.
“God alone knows what they’ll find, and what they’ll make of it.” Doc sighed. “Perhaps it’s best we leave them to it.”
Ryan looked around at the shattered palace. They stood alone. As always, just the six of them. And Tod had been right: this wasn’t their fight. No one came out of this with any glory to robe themselves.
“Must be plenty of wags undamaged,” he told them. “We need to find one, get supplies to replace the ones that we lost when they took us, and get the fuck out of here. This is no place for us.”
Their silence was all the agreement he needed.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-5549-8
ARCADIAN’S ASYLUM
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