#Chapter62
As Raven Toussaint perched on the edge of the futon, legs crossed and molars locked, there was too much on his mind to dwell on specifics, and in a way, that was a blessing. Mutiny had divided his thoughts, marching them into an unrelenting war, and they bounced off one another in a chaotic, mind-numbing kind of way.
His foot tapped, jacked up on adrenaline, and his mouth tasted like he'd taken a shine to suckling on copper wire. Don't even get him started on the way his emotional grid was playing battleships, anger firing and aiming any time common sense walked into the picture. He'd spared Adam once. Spared him for Ronan's sake, but after what had just gone down between them, he vowed never again. He was a dead man on sight, and if it cost him his own in penance, then so be it.
