DRAVEN KOLT
I stood there, soaked in pig blood, stinking like a slaughterhouse, knife in my hand, staring at three grown men on their knees in the dirt like they'd forgotten every ounce of backbone they ever had.
Grave…Varek and Lockjaw — all three of them looking up at me like they were five seconds away from crying, which honestly, at this point, they deserved to be.
I couldn't even talk. That was the embarrassing part. I just stood there dripping and stared at them and tried to figure out which god I had personally offended to end up here.
Yelena moved first.
She walked straight up to me, this small pale girl with dirt on her face and a look on her face that was somewhere between apologetic and completely unrepentant, and said, "Okay so. That blood was meant for us. You weren't sup
