Page 61 of Agony

Steel followed him. “How could you have known? Nobody knew shit. You kept Fisher from the hit going down on Blue. There was no time to explain fuck about anyone’s history.”

“History…” he frowned and glanced at Steel. “Do you know their history?”

“No, I don’t. I imagine the only person who does know is Ice, because Echo would have told him,” Steel said. “From what I gather, Rogue and Fisher are not talking.”

That made sense. Ice and Echo were in love, so it stood to reason that they’d know about each other’s pasts.

He, on the other hand, hadn’t been a big part of Fisher’s life so he didn’t know shit.

“Wait. There are others.” Justice hunched his shoulders and tucked his hands into the pockets of his blue jeans. “The recent boys that were rescued. They could shed some light on what Fisher went through.”

“I imagine Cash or Apollo might share with you if you sat down with them,” Steel agreed.

“What about Azrael?”

“I don’t think Real will let you get close enough to talk with Az.”

That made sense. Justice figured all the boys were having trouble adjusting and the last thing they needed was him digging for answers because he’d fucked up.

“I tried to talk with Fisher, but he’s too angry.”

“Give it time. It’s only been a little over a month.”

It had been five weeks, but to him, it felt like fucking years.

“Savage is backed up on jobs. You good to come along or are you sitting a few out?” Steel asked.

“What does that have to do with Genesis?” He frowned.

“I guess Real is having us help you guys out.”

Justice rubbed at his face.

A hit.

A job.

Suddenly, that was all he wanted, to lose himself in his profession. Perhaps killing a few sick individuals would keep him occupied.

“I’ll come,” he said roughly.

He would not handle the jobs to forget what he’d done.

But rather, each job would serve as a reminder—that he did have the power to end people just as sick as Solomon.

And perhaps only then could he gain a bit of gratification.

When Fisher woke up in Kit’s spare bedroom, Boston’s warm body lay next to him.

He glanced over. The boy had curled closer as if seeking protection and it sent something painful into his chest. The boy reminded him so much of Mouse.

Fisher had a soft spot for these lost and abused children.

The teenager’s lids lifted and dark eyes held his.

“Did Solomon train you or were you always with Tanis?”

Boston answered after a moment of hesitation. “Tanis and then Solomon. When Solomon died, I was taken back by Tanis.”

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