Part of me was advising that I might as well tell her now. I knew torture. Plenty of personal experience, only I’d always been on the other side of the irons. I don’t claim to be a good man, and in a war, bad men do the worst things. What were the Tanzas to me? She wasn’t my woman. Would never be my woman. Dantry was a good kid, but I’d done my part by him. More than I needed to. This wasn’t my fight. It was always my fight.
