Page 87 of Jagger's Remorse
"That'll disappoint him," Jagger observes.
"Everything about this will disappoint him," I correct. "Especially you."
"Because I killed Miguel," he says.
"Because you lived," I l)Iclarify. "In Eduardo's world, you should be dead. The fact that you're not, that I failed to kill you, that I'm fucking you instead—it's all disappointment."
"So why meet?" he asks. "Why not just sendsicarios?"
"Because I'm still family," I explain. "And because he's curious. Eduardo loves chess. This is just another game to him."
"And we're the pieces," Jagger says.
"No," I correct. "We're players who think we're pieces. That's what makes it interesting."
My phone buzzes.
The address.
A restaurant in Redding I know well.
Eduardo owns it through shell companies.
"Time to go," I tell him.
"Wait," Jagger says. He pulls something from his drawer. "Wear this."
It's a necklace.
Simple silver chain with a small pendant.
A crow.
"Your crow?" I ask, surprised.
"So he knows you're claimed," Jagger explains. "That killing you means war with the Iron Veins."
"You think that'll stop him?" I ask.
"No," he admits. "But it might make him think twice."
I let him clasp it around my neck.
The weight feels significant.
Like acceptance.
Like belonging.
Like everything Raven says, I'll never have.
"Let's go," I say.
We take Jagger's truck, two prospects following on bikes.
They'll wait outside, symbolic protection that won't mean shit if Eduardo decides we die.
But it's about appearances.
