“Czar is this tree trunk. He got us out, but he did more than that—he kept us from losing complete humanity. To get out of that place, to save ourselves, we had to do things even adults shouldn’t have to do. Without him giving us a moral code, none of us would have survived intact,” Savage continued.
Destroyer put both hands on the table, fingers splayed wide. He had big hands. His fingers were tattooed. His hands were clearly weapons. His arms, all the way to his shoulders and up his neck, were covered in tattoos—not the smooth artwork Ink did, but raw prison work done in cells with contraband. He had long hair he wore pulled back from his face and bound tightly in two-inch increments down his back.
“I’m not certain I ever got out of that prison,” he said, his voice husky. At some point his vocal cords had been damaged. He had scars, but the tattoos swirling up his neck covered them unless one looked closely—and Destroyer wasn’t a man to let anyone get that close to him.
“That’s the point,” Player added his two cents, trying to fight for the man. They all were drowning in their own ways. “We’re better together. I’m not saying this right. I exist because we exist. I don’t know how else to put it to you. That’s how we get through.”
“You’ve had one another since you were kids,” Destroyer pointed out. “You went through all of it together. That had to have woven a tight bond.”
“Or it could have done just the opposite,” Steele said. “In many cases it did. So many children refused to join with others—with us. They were embarrassed, or they wanted to please Sorbacov, or the instructors, hoping for favors. Whatever the reasons, they went their own way and they didn’t make it.”
“I had no choice.”
There was no bitterness in Destroyer’s voice, and Player realized that was one of the reasons Czar had fought so hard for him. He accepted what happened and went on from there. None of them could change the past, but they’d had Czar and one another to keep going—what had Destroyer had?
“Yes, you did,” Czar said, his tone low but firm, the way it was when he was making a point and wanted it to stick. “You always have a choice, and you know that. You stayed alive in that prison. Something kept you alive. Whatever it was, it was strong, and you made it out and it brought you here, to us. You came this far and you have to take that next step and let us in.”
Destroyer shook his head. “I’m not ever going to be that man who tells someone what happened to me. You all shared that past. That gave you a tight bond.”
“Stop using that as an excuse. You were there in that school. What happened to us, happened to you,” Czar snapped. “What’s really going on here? You didn’t have to be in the same room with us, because those fuckers went after all of us. You lost your sister. You know what they did to her. Every one of us suffered losses. Too many of them.”
Before Czar could continue, Alena put both hands on the table. “Let me, please, Czar.” She waited for his nod of consent. “Destroyer, you wanted to be part of this club. One of us. It was huge to allow you in. We don’t do that. I held a childish grudge against you and nearly held out because of it, but Czar reminded me that you suffered the same nightmare childhood and losses we did. You belong with us, but we live with a code.”
Destroyer started to speak, but Savage shook his head and indicated for him to allow Alena to continue.
“This isn’t easy for me to say. I have a difficult time with outsiders, and letting you in when I felt you betrayed me was one of the hardest things I’ve done. I’m working every single day to accept you wholly into our family. The thing is, you have to come all the way in. Yes, it’s true that we lived together, so we have that advantage on you. You were taken to that prison and lived alone. It’s difficult to merge with us, I know that. It must seem like so many rules and personalities. I’m getting to the point, I promise. I’m just working up the courage to make my confession.”
“Alena,” Czar said gently, “you don’t have to.”
“I do. He’s a member of the club, and we all know one another’s worst secrets. We all saw the terrible things done over and over. He didn’t. He might know what happened. He might have experienced the same things, but he didn’t see it happening to us the way we did. He doesn’t get thrown out without me making an attempt to get him to understand. I was the one who behaved childishly, and I can stand up for a brother. We made him that when we gave him a Torpedo Ink cut.”