Page 25 of Bones and Ashes

Because I have questions for Diesel.

Questions that have been buildin' since before the vote. Since before Brick hit the floor with my bullet between his eyes. Questions about how much he knew. How deep he was in it. How many times he sat across from Brick in this same goddamn room and heard things he should've brought to me and didn't.

How 'in' he was.

How long he was 'in.'

Whether bein' 'in' was a choice or just the slow rot of proximity—standin' too close to a liar for too many years until the lies start soundin' like reason.

It pisses me off.

It fuckin' pisses me off that everyone sittin' in this room tonight knew somethin'.

Knew pieces, at least.

Knew enough to smell it even if they couldn't name it.

Everyone here but me.

And maybe Dusty. Maybe.

The rest of 'em? They knew what was goin' on. They knew what Brick was. They knew what Brandy was. And they just… let it. Let it breathe. Let it grow roots under the floorboards while I sat in a cell countin' days on a wall, doin' time for a club that was already hollowed out from the inside.

They let it happen.

And that thought sits in my chest like a coal that won't cool.

But it's useless rage, this blame. I know that. Blame is a debt and rage without direction is just noise. Just heat with nowhere to land.

Because look how fast they got to me.

Mike and his smugness this morning. His escort. His blacked-out SUVs and his presumption of power. I am nothin' to that man. And he is nothin' to me.

But I have dead bodies in the ground and he's got the means to make that disappear. And I did that. I brought this on myself. One hundred percent of it.

After Eleanor died, I didn't walk away. I stayed. I stayed knowin' what Brick was. Because I was that desperate to acquire what my half-brother was simply given.

Family.

And these men are family.

Everyone in this room showed up.

They put it all on the line to get us out.

Or, at the very least, to give me the chance to get us out.

To find a way.

To buy their souls back.

I am not without sin.

Judge not, lest ye be judged.

So I let the rage sit. I let it cool. I don't feed it and I don't fight it.

Instead, I say, "They're gonna be out at June's for the next three days. Helpin' her sort things. I guess she's gonna sell the farm."