ASHES OF BROTHERHOOD
He smirked the moment he saw me, that kind of smirk that never reached his eyes.
“Well, look who crawled back,” he said, voice slick and playful. “You sure you’re still one of us, Ash? ’Cause word is, you’ve been getting soft.”
I ignored him and kept walking. He followed like a shadow that wouldn’t quit. “I’m just saying,” he went on, “Griff’s losing faith. Man needs soldiers, not saints.”
“I’m not here for a sermon,” I replied, grabbing a beer just to keep my hands busy. My fingers shook around the bottle. I hated that he noticed.
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