“Benjamin Styke,” Jes spat. “So clever. So strong. But you can’t even protect your friends. Tell me, what drove you here? Burning down Gamble’s bar? Smashing up Fles Blades? Wrecking Sunin’s livery? Killing that old buzzard Hovenson? I wasn’t sure what would get your attention, so I decided to do it all at once.” Styke forced his face to remain stony but felt a catch in his throat. Jes listed off a dozen more names and the ills his Blackhats had done to them, presumably that very morning. They were all old friends and officers, people who might have shown him succor in time of need. Styke’s
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