Kelan stood at the corner of Pine Street. It would be dark soon. He would have to hurry. He just wondered if he could go through with it.
He had been so sure of himself not twenty minutes ago, standing in the doorway of his mother’s bedroom. Even in sleep she had looked so tired, so scared, and now all he could think of was how much he wanted to crawl into bed beside her.
But no.
It was time to be a brave soldier. Time to give Arnie Kovacs what he deserved. After all, he had the upper hand—Arnie had slipped up. Had told him what he needed to know.
Not in so many words, certainly. It hadn’t been like that. What it had been like was a street fight of wills; another moment of locked thought between foes. He had pushed hard into Arnie’s head when Arnie had gone after his mother, and Arnie had pushed back—how hard it was to cut through that thick skull of his when you were trying to make him shiver—but with resistance came revelation.
Arnie was plotting his revenge, plotting it right now, in fact, in the park—the Pack’s intended destination all along. Chancing upon him and his mom had been plain luck, granting Arnie the chance to draw the line of battle before the engagement. Arnie’s plan was to ambush him with a Really Good Beating, before cramming his throat with a bucket of loose change. At least, that was the gist of it. The mental link had been imprecise, a torrent of rage flowing with it.
The thing was, there was more—there was worse—but what worse was, Kelan hadn’t been able to discern. When Mom struck the ground he had panicked, severing the connection between him and Arnie instantly.
No, there was no turning back. That’s what he’d always done.
It was time to be a brave soldier.
Time to ambush Arnie.
Time to rub him out.