Ryder:
The first rule of the Iron Vultures was painted above the garage entrance.
BROTHERS DON’T BLEED ALONE.
I’d read it often enough to remember every chipped letter.
That morning, I finally understood why somebody had bothered painting it.
“Hold him still!”
“I am holding him still!”
“Then why is he moving?”
“Because you’re digging into his hand with a pair of pliers, you sadistic bastard!”
I stopped in the doorway.
Theo sat on the workbench, his injured hand wrapped in a grease-stained rag. Deke crouched in front of him, attempting to remove a small metal fragment from his palm. Mercer stood nearby with a flashlight, despite the garage being flooded with daylight.
Jace looked up from the floor.
“Morning, sunshine.”
I glanced at Theo’s hand. “What happened?”
“An unfortunate
