Tennent had a bullet in his shoulder so, with his wrists cuffed, there appeared to be no fight left in him. Dixon—currently unconscious—was similarly restrained but posed even less trouble. With both men secure, Garth watched as Jack Berwick assisted Victor into the other car. Victor, his mentor and one of the few people on earth who truly mattered to Garth, paused as the back door opened. Garth caught Victor’s gaze as he looked up at him. Garth nodded at him. Victor acknowledged it and tilted his head in return before making slow, tender progress into the car. Victor’s face was badly cut and bruised from repeated beatings. One eye was swollen shut. Caked blood stained his face. He cradled one arm, the collarbone having been broken, probably in multiple places from the bruises that were already blossoming. Garth noticed his mentor also walked stiffly, with a noticeable limp as if he wanted to curl in on himself, but still refused to show even a hint of weakness.
