I broke out of his grip and poured myself a bourbon. Saint didn’t need me to enumerate all the ways in which he was slowly killing himself. I suspected he’d been hoping for that exact outcome ever since we escaped that shithole realm.
I used to resent him for it. Hell, maybe I still did.
He didn’t sell Midnight’s exotic drugs here in the States because he wanted to—he did it because he had to, same as I did. Taking them, though? Thatwasa choice.
And when it came down to choices—no matter how many he’d been given—Saint had never managed to make the right ones.
“We’re not talking about an overnight trip to the coast,” I said. “There are people in Midnight—fuckingmercenaries—still out for your blood.”
He met my gaze again, his eyes glassy. The fact that he was still on his feet at all spoke volumes about the tolerance he’d built up over the years. Even after taking enough Devil’s Dream to turn his eyes black, he was still nowhere near the unconscious delirium it promised.
“Ourblood,” he said. “Isn’t that what you mean? You. Me. Hudson. Blood before roses, right?”
Blood before roses.
The old vow echoed, the blood oath the three of us had sworn to one another in the Hollow—the neighborhood where we’d first crossed paths inside Midnight’s walled city of Amaranth. Where we’d first figured out how to turn the realm’s infamous corpsevine plant into the pills that would ultimately buy our freedom… And promptly enslave us.
It felt like a lifetime ago.
Saint grinned, black eyes haunted by the ghosts of everything we’d done. Everything we werestilldoing. Memories, guilt, leverage… What did it matter? All of it bound us like the iron chains we’d left back in the Hollow.
A bitter taste filled my mouth. A lot had happened since the days of blood oaths and brotherhood.
“Fuck you.” I shoved him away and turned my back, unable to look into those drugged-out eyes another moment. “The realm is at war. Always has been, always will be. Even if Ididwant to help your witch, what makes you think we could survive another go? That we could even reach Amaranth City before some rebel faction wasted us?” I shook my head and laughed. “Maybe you should get in touch with Keradoc yourself. Negotiate a peace treaty—you’d have a better chance atthatthan making it through the realm alive.”
Now it was Saint’s turn to laugh. “And what would peace do to our supply chain?” He poured himself another drink, then resumed lounging on the couch. “It’s a balancing act, Jax. We don’t want the realm blowing itself to bits, but we still need them at war. A peaceful, law-abiding realm is no good for us.”
“Tricky thing, this war profiteering.”
“The Empire doesn’t run itself, brother.” He held up his glass in cheers, then sipped.
It was an old argument between us—one I’d never win because the bastard was right. And however repugnant it was, the Empire—the code name he’d given our operation—was what kept us alive.
Thenandnow.
“Haley needs my help,” he said. “Sure. But this isn’t about her at all. She brought us an opportunity. A golden fucking opportunity we’d be fools to squander.”
“An opportunity for death? Great. Sign me up.”
“Not ours, Jax.” He stared into the amber liquid in his glass, dark eyes glinting with a malice I hadn’t seen since our last days in Midnight. “His.”
7
JAX
Keradoc?” I asked. “Are you high? Wait—don’t answer that.”
“Then don’t ask.”
“Saint, there’s no way. No fucking way. Besides, Haley said she needs to get the blood without killing him.”
“Everyone needssomething, Jax. Sometimes I can meet those needs, sometimes I can’t.”
“And most of the time, you just plainwon’t.” I sipped my bourbon, half-wishing it was as good as Devil’s Dream at obliterating my thoughts. “Why would you risk your life for a doomed assassination attempt on Keradoc?”
“For fuck’s sake. He’s the warlord responsible for the genocide of tens of thousands of people. Do I really need a reason?”
“He’s the warlord you smuggled weapons for in the Hollow. Your drug enterprise is probably still funding half his campaigns.”
