The IntruderMorton burst in, followed by a couple of Cesare’s men, who left the door open behind them. “Four of your brothers are here.”
I took a step towards Morton, heart pounding. Was Jack with them? “Which four of his brothers?”
Cesare appeared astonished. “What?”
Morton nodded. “Good timing: they were able to capture our attackers as they fled.”
Cesare didn’t seem pleased with the news.
“I’m pretty sure we got everyone, but —” Morton eyes moved to Cesare’s left upper arm, now awash in blood. “Good gods, man — you’re hurt! Let us call in a surgeon to see to that.”
I felt amused at the way a bit of his parents’ homeland of Dickens snuck into his speech. But then I felt humbled: Morton truly cared what happened to the man.
Perhaps that was how he, a son of outsiders, had gotten al
