Jackson himself had been twenty-one, so not a big gap in their ages, but it was enough. Sean was bleeding at the time, and he’d been led out toward a steep hill. The incline had been treacherous, and anyone who fell wouldn’t have survived the fall. There had been a running fall right down at the bottom.
He’d gone to the same spot that day when three cars had dragged bleeding, howling Sean out. The men had grabbed his arms and legs, and they were about to toss him over the side, but Jackson hadn’t been able to watch.
He’d killed the men that day, taken all of their valuables, and snuck off with Sean, breaking into a cabin in the woods, and healing him. It was the first time he’d seen an unwanted mark on a person.
Each time he saw the brand from that day forward, it angered him. No, that
