Page 190 of Lethal King

“A few of my men were in the area when the explosion went off,” I explain. “They didn’t know what happened, but when they went to check it out, they were confronted by a heavily-armed group fleeing the scene.”

“The perpetrators?”

“It could only be them. They slaughtered most of my guys. But one managed to survive. He’s still chasing after them. I’m locked onto his signal.”

“That’s a brave boy,” Dad says.

“He’s doing his job,” I nod. “But only after fucking up his first duty.”

“What was his first duty?”

“To protect that fucking union building,” I snarl. For a moment, my fragile composure breaks. My rage comes spilling out. “That’s what they were doing in the area, after all.”

“You sent them over there?”

I shake my head. “No,” I explain. “Ever since I returned from my exile out west, I’ve been half-expecting someone to take advantage of the fuck up that sent me out there. What better way to do that than to go after the same union I got in trouble for busting up? All anyone would have to do was frame me for the attack, and I’d be in a world of shit. To prevent that future, I set up small teams of men to constantly watch all union buildings around the city. They were supposed to stop anything like this from happening.”

“How small of a team are we talking?” Dad asks.

“Half a dozen men. Maybe a few more, depending on the night. There are a lot of union buildings in the city. I’ll admit, we were spread thin.”

“So, you only had half a dozen men at the scene,” Dad points out. “And how many men did they go up against?”

“The info wasn’t clear, but it sounds like at least twice that.”

“So your men were outnumbered? They fought to the death? And the sole survivor is risking the life he just barely escaped with to chase down the fuckers who just steamrolled him and his friends?”

“… Yes.”

To my frustration, I come up at another red light.

The night has turned silent. I’m all alone.

“So, why are you angry at them?”

“Who said I was angry at them?” I snap.

“I know my son,” Dad insists. “Your voice is different when you’re angry at yourself.”

“They failed me,” I tell him.

“But not because they didn’t try their best.”

“Their best wasn’t good enough.”

“it often isn’t.”

“If we’re going to survive, it has to be.”

My engine crackles as I roll through the red light. Part of me is expecting to hear police sirens. Anything to add insult to injury. But nothing comes. I speed up again, just in time to hear my father’s heavy sigh.

“These men aren’t you, Rian,” Dad says. “They weren’t raised the same way. They don’t live the same way. They didn’t grow up learning from infamous advisors, or receive training from the deadliest killers out there. They don’t have access to the best weapons or the finest technologies. They do what they can with what they’re given. And it sounds like they do it to the best of their ability. Cut them some slack.”

That’s the last thing I was expecting to hear my dad say. He’s notoriously strict.

“Slack? How can I cut anyone slack at a time like this? Our entire way of life is on the line.”

“And it might remain that, even in victory. If you don’t win over the men who work for you, you’ll have no one.”