Page 937 of Lessons in Cruelty

Every day since, I’ve stared at those names, trying to convince myself it was a fair trade. Some other part of me stayed furious that these three had thought—even for a second—I’d be corrupt enough to take it.

“I suppose you think you’ve got some kind of moral code,” I say sourly. “You think what you do is okay because you do it to bad people. But if you think for a second⁠—”

“Please,” Rooke cuts in, scoffing. “Morality is subjective.”

This earns a quizzical glance from Haven, and even Kai’s face flinches a little at Rooke’s words. Their professor has obviously taught them to keep their composure, because if I hadn’t been looking for their reactions, I would have missed it—they’re that fleeting.

“Justice isn’t.”

The whiskey is warming me even more than the fire.

“You didn’t come all this way for a philosophical debate on ethics.” Rooke slides his arm down to Kai’s shoulders and wraps his fingers around Kai’s bicep, tugging his lover gently against him. “Were you hoping for dinner and a show?”

Haven side-eyes Rooke, her mouth compressing. “Bastian...” she murmurs.

I clear my throat. “I’m not a vigilante.”

“Yet,” Rooke says, his expression blank.

“Ever.”

Kai snorts smoke through his nose. Haven doesn’t laugh, but her mouth wants to. Rooke’s thumb moves idly against Kai’s arm as he smiles.

“Forget it, Bash,” Haven says quietly. “He’ll never understand. Just let him leave.”

“Yeah, officer.” Kai takes the joint back from his girlfriend, hitting it before continuing in a tight voice, “Time you fucked off back to your sad, empty apartment in Agony Hollow. What’s it gonna be for dinner? Wendy’s or McDonalds?”

I don’t know why I expect Rooke to reprimand Kai. Fuck knows why I’m angry that he doesn’t. Or am I just angry that Kai is right? There’s nothing waiting for me at Agony Hollow. There’s never been anything waiting for me back at home, wherever ‘home’ happened to be—trailer park, apartment, backseat of my car.

The fire pops.

Here’s what Bastian Rooke, with all his research and his slick fucking certainty, doesn’t know.

I’m not an honest man. And worst of all, I agree with him.

Morality is subjective...at least to the people who so openly flout their version of it. Why the fuck are the rest of us still pretending any of this shit matters?

Someone’s gotta keep the peace.

I stand. “I have a long drive.”

“You shouldn’t drink and drive, Deputy,” Haven says.

I ignore her, and head for the door. I get three steps. Three whole steps.

Surely that counts for something.

“You’ve got a knack for reading things, Fox. People, places. Situations. I watched you catalog everything when you came inside.”

I shouldn’t stop, but I do. I definitely shouldn’t turn around.

But I do.

“It’s a fascinating thing to watch. Hypnotic, almost.”

Rooke hasn’t moved from the couch, yet somehow, everything about him has changed, like a current under his skin switching direction.

He rises. The gown swings loose around him and he doesn’t bother with it as he walks closer.