You don’t go running to the cops. A club member who did would be betraying his brothers. I’m not a Hellfire Rider, I’m not an old lady, but I’m Saxon’s. By telling Landauer anything about last night, I’d be betraying him. But I keep seeing that blood. And I wonder what would be harder to live with: Saxon dead or Saxon not loving me? I know the answer. Because in the moment last night that his eyes closed and his bloodied body seemed lifeless, I’d have done anything, anything, to bring him back. Even if I never held him again. Maybe there’s another way, though. I don’t know what it is. I’m trying to think of one, but Hashtag has moved away from asking questions; instead he’s telling me about the night-vision goggles that he and Scarecrow will be using to make sure Reichmann doesn’t try to sneak up on us in the dark again. Then he says that everything would be a lot easier if they could just bomb the shit out of the Eighty-Eight’s compound, and Scarecrow tells him that he’s been fighting overseas too long and forgot about the old ladies and kids that are probably living out there, or maybe he just doesn’t give a shit about collateral damage and would like to send in a drone, then they start sniping about the last presidential election and I have to tell them to shut the fuck up so I can think.
