cut down in his prime. I looked at the women, and the sadness that illuminated their faces.
And I looked to the other two prospects. The remaining two boys who Diego had taken. The younger of the two appeared haunted as his friend was laid to rest—coins on his eyes as per Hangmen tradition. But it was Asher that I focused on. His face wasn’t sad like everyone else’s. It was furious, his dark eyes savage in their glare. His body was so tightly tensed he looked like he was going to snap at any moment. His black hair stuck to his face as the rain sluiced down and drenched him. But his eyes never moved from the coffin, like if he stared hard enough, he could resurrect his friend.
My stomach fell. Because he never would. He would never have his best friend back. And he would probably forever blame himself for Slash pushing him out of the way. When it was my fault. It was all my fault. Diego killed that young man because of me.
All this pain . . . all this violence and death was my fault.
Tanner’s hand sought out mine, giving it a brief squeeze before he let go. I couldn’t look at him as the men lowering Slash into the ground stepped back from the grave. Every one of the Hangmen took out their guns.
As Smiler started shoveling the dirt over the coffin, Styx fired a single shot into the air, the sound causing the birds to scatter from the surrounding trees. Like a rehearsed dance, the rest of the Hangmen fired numerous shots into the air. But Asher still didn’t move. His midnight eyes stayed fixed on the quickly covered coffin, his jaw clenched and his hands balled into fists at his side. I tore my eyes away, unable to witness such pain and rage, only to find Saffie flickering covert, worried glances toward Asher. She stood under her mother’s umbrella, holding onto Phebe as always. It was like Saffie couldn’t stand without her mother’s help. But her eyes kept drifting to Asher. He never once noticed her looking. And I thought it was a shame. Asher clearly needed someone to comfort him right now. And Saffie looked like she might be willing to offer it.
When the final shot rang out, silence fell around the forest. We all watched as the last of the dirt was thrown over the coffin, and Smiler brought over a temporary cross to stand at the head of the grave. Tanner had told me that a Hangmen headstone was being made.
Smiler took a sledgehammer and knocked the cross into the ground. And I swore, with each hit of the hammer on the simple wooden cross, I saw a part of his soul disappear. The rain had lessened enough for me to realize that the drops falling down Smiler’s cheeks were not rain. But tears for the cousin he would never see again, the family member he had lost. I could no longer fight the lump in my throat at the sight of such a strong man breaking. Only to become worse when the doctor I knew as Rider came forward and put his hand on Smiler’s arm. Smiler’s hands shook as he hit the cross for the final time. Then like a dam cracking, he turned his head into Rider’s chest and agonized cries soared from his shattered heart.
It was too much. The guilt, the pain and the knowledge that it was all because of me that Slash was dead. That Smiler had lost his cousin. Tanner must have sensed my sadness, as he wrapped me in his arms. I buried my face in his cut and let the familiar scent of Tanner and leather warm me. But it was no use. I was cold. And I wasn’t sure if I could ever feel warmth again.
“Come on,” Tanner urged. I saw guilt written on his features too. Was this all our fault? Was this man dead because we had needed to be together so much? I wanted to ask Tanner, but I was too scared. I didn’t want to know the answer.
Tanner put his arm around my shoulders and took us toward Smiler. Each of the Hangmen were walking to him and putting their hand on his back in silent support. Rider had stayed beside him the entire time. We stayed back and waited until it was our turn. My lip trembled as we approached him, and as I met