He wanted to feel rage, wrath, a burning righteous fury to unleash upon the Weir when next they met. But here, now, in this heavy, silent hallway where the air barely dared to stir, he felt nothing. The emotions he had expected to surge and seethe were as dead as the shell of this underground city. Loss was nothing new. He’d lost more than a few acquaintances out in the open, and even a couple he’d have dared to call friends. But Gev? If there was anything like family left in the world for Three, Gev had been it. And he’d never seen the Weir hit anything on this scale before. Gev, the Weir… Dagon. Too much to process. And Cass. She’d played him, and he’d let her. He’d killed for her, nearly died for her, even left and come back for her. Even now he didn’t know why. Or wouldn’t admit that he did. He’d seen women and children plenty of times before, in the shelters, in the gutters, never thought of them as anything more than human debris.
