maybe you knew him before, but you don't know him now. if I get the chance, I'm gonna kill him. don't get in my way.
They didn’t talk about it. That was the unspoken agreement between her and everyone who knew the real reason she’d taken arms against the cult in the first place, that it would die with whatever sibling went down first or disappear when ( if ) the two of them finally did.
At least, that’s the message Wren hoped had gotten across. But it’s not as if she could blame Mary. She doesn’t know the full details, but what she’s heard and seen paints a clear picture of the things John has put these people through. She can’t ignore all the holes cut out of the county, people taken and never seen again -- or left hanging on display like a warning shot. She can’t ignore the way Mary’s eyes burn when John is brought up. And she certainly can’t blame her.
“If you kill him...” The words don’t sound like a threat, Wren is too tired to make them so. “If you got that chance, I wouldn’t stop you.”
She isn’t making eye contact, opting to stare off and away out the window. The sun streaks through the broken windows of the bar, casting a warm glow against the floorboards.
“Would you stand in my way, Ms. Fairgrave? If I had the chance to save him?”