“I hope you fight him,” she said, enunciating carefully. “I intend to—” Adare began. The girl cut her off. “I hope you fight him, and he fights back. I’ll still be locked up somewhere, but I hope I hear about it.” “About what?” “About his death,” Triste said, violet eyes ablaze. “And Kaden’s. And yours. About your son’s. That’s the only way this ends. You know it, but you’re too stubborn to believe it. All of you scheming bastards are going to cut each other down, and though I don’t pray often, when I do pray, I pray for this: that I get to hear how it all happened.”
