Bab 11: Chapter 11

“You know one of the things I hate?” Cole gestured between the two of them. “Not having this. Normal conversation. Laughing. Joking around about something that isn’t life and death.”

“Debating when you kill isn’t life and death?”

“You know what I mean.”

He did, actually. They’d been friends first, unlikely companions to an outsider’s eye. Cole, the gangly artist with his head in the clouds, and Brady, the gregarious jock determined to ignore his political father’s clout and forge a name for himself. They’d lived in the same dorm and met in the main lounge the first week, both victims to inconsiderate roommates. Brady broke the ice first, anything to have an excuse to watch the gorgeous stranger unencumbered, but Cole surprised him with his quick comebacks and keen observations of others who would walk by. Studying took a back seat to hanging out. The rest was history.

“This isn’t about us,” Brady said.