Rafe ran the longest church of his tenure the following Saturday.
Four hours. Every option on the table, every voice heard. He was not the kind of president who made his men feel that their input was theater -- he had built the Saints on the idea that eighteen men who trusted each other were worth more than one man who was right, and he had been right often enough that they trusted the process.
The Route 9 incident had changed the temperature. What had been a slow strategic pressure from Dutch had become something with a physical edge. Marco was twenty-four and angry and the anger was not wrong, just imprecise.
"We respond, Marco said. On our terms, our timing, but we respond. You don't let that kind of move sit."
"I agree we respond. What we're deciding is how."
"What's the how? Cord
