Redsand Canyon as the building continues to burn

donovan had seemed eager enough to share his tale, dismissive enough of it afterwards. he’d called it a pussy-ass vent, but the banked fury in his voice made it clear enough he dwelled on it, as if the fact that he’d walked all the way here and raised the saints right back out of the rubble wasn’t enough. renard expected he would have been more than happy to share with the rest of his recruits; even if finley was unaware, her ignorance wouldn’t last.

his loss should have been enough of a lesson – do better, or this will happen again – and it was not. who would be the one to hammer it in, they wondered? would it be nemisis? would it be the mess he had already made? the fire already burned out of control.

not their desired way to play things.

the bait was taken. the comment lingered between them, and renard watched her face, but if she had picked up on the meaning threaded in the words there was nothing there to suggest it. smart. it was a long game they had to play; it was only expected that there would be ample time to wait.

renard’s own knowledge of the saints’ problems was patchy. donovan did not seem nearly as concerned as he should – one couldn’t take things seriously all the time, and they wouldn’t want to, but there were no bones in place. wait and see. that was only bound to end in disaster. they weren’t familiar enough with the packs to pick apart scents on the border of ravensblood and donovan had given them little more than names and descriptions.

they hoped to change that soon – and finley’s admission seemed an excellent place to start. one ear flicked, the only indication of their interest. “do you know what pack?” a wry smile curled the edges of their mouth. “donovan seems to be the only topic to raise it. i have to believe someone has some concern about,” an exaggerated shrug, “everything else. yet he hasn’t seemed too worried.” certainly nemisis hadn’t either. but they expected that of her.