“I got no love for my brother. He and I parted in the worst of ways. Me on my feet and him bearing a dozen cuts from my knife, bleeding him out.” “Something you regret,” I say, pushing back. “Something I regret,” he says, nodding. “A man shouldn’t knife his brother, no matter his offense. But me regretting ain’t going to change a thing. He needed to die then, and seems like he needs to die now.”
