art by crypsis
He watched, and he listened. There was truth in these words, in the way they were spoken. Ezekiel was furious, he was exhausted, he was all the things that one would expect from a man cracking under pressure. Max still did not wish to see that the man who had all but raised him was not infallible. It was terrible and he knew it was inevitable. No man was a god.
Vaguely, he imagined that the truth of Ezekiel’s plans were not simply planned but logical. He did not know how well the Aquila had worked on grooming the red-haired woman, how much subterfuge had gone into seeing that there were plans in place and in motion for just in case. There was something unnerving about the concept. He wondered if Ezekiel had contemplated his death long ago and dismissed the thought.
Max’s face darkened and his breathing became slow and forced. “They’re monsters,” he echoed, and thought of his own father.
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