Redsand Canyon now who to blame but i for tying these knots so well at my wrists

“i doubt it.” if she knew anything about leading, she wouldn’t have been so quick to abandon the saints, not with their offer dangled clearer than any word they’d shared before between them. and if she cared anything for it, she should have at the very least given them some proposal to follow.

they might have even pretended to consider it.

they doubted donovan knew most of it either. but they couldn’t argue with his reasoning. kindness was a weakness: it left too much of your throat exposed. the saints, as much of a mess as they were, provided a service – the proof that everyone needed to know how to fight back.

not that they were doing this out of concern. not that the saints acted out of anything but whim, at this point. donovan commanded them now, even if it hadn’t been renard’s wisest decision. as intrigue went – very little got dull here, besides the patrols.

they could argue with his final question. a leader risking his life for his soldiers? if he wanted to play at having a family he would risk his life for, what a strange choice, to take them into the mess that he’d created at the hands of his own poor judgment.

but why were they expecting things to make sense now?

he’d asked. there was a painfully obvious question staring all of them in the face, acknowledged or not. “i want to know,” renard said, “what your goal is. what are you trying to accomplish here?”

what else was there to say? the saints baked in a desert, waiting for…what? the next eviction notice to be served? surely there was something more he wanted.

or maybe it was just chaos. and hadn’t they said they were here to be entertained?