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268 pages, Kindle Edition
First published August 29, 2017
He said it like it was a universal truth, with a tiny shrug and a crinkle between his eyebrows. ‘Not every fight can be won.’
Each Rider faced that truth–if not before they joined, then during initiation, when they stood in front of their own portrait on the memorial wall in the temple. An outline that would be painted in upon their death, just like the others that surrounded it, all the dozens of portraits of Riders who had already died.
Maybe that was the lesson she’d embrace. Riders spent their lives too easily. There was nothing smart about throwing yourself against a brick wall until it broke you. Smart was retreating until you could find another way around the damn wall.
Ana forced herself to relax and nod. ‘All right.’
Deacon’s expression didn’t change. ‘No argument?’
Another trap. Strange how she could see it, recognize the wisdom of silent obedience–and still not manage to hold her tongue. ‘Nope. Sometimes you just can’t win a fight…yet.’
‘Yet,’ he echoed, crossing his arms over his massive chest. ‘Explain.’
She shrugged. ‘I didn’t lose. I withdrew. Fight’s not over until you’re dead. Sometimes something’s important enough to die for. But sometimes you need to pull back and regroup.’