David’s POV
“Son, you’re not going to get in trouble here. I know you’re a good kid if a little troubled, but I’m going to need you to come clean, David. I’m going to need you to talk to me. What happened at Marty’s?”
This was a first. Normally when I went to the police station, I was outside one of these rooms, watching these scenes unfold before me. As a kid, I used to press my face into the glass, eager to see justice get served to the criminal dregs of society.
In those days, my views were one-to-one with my father. Casteless, Omegas, candyboys and candygirls, packless, addicts, dog lords, heretics, knot-breakers, and breeder-bunnies—they all deserved what they had coming to them.