Johnny had been up all night, holding the letter he'd gotten from Savannah. He sat back on their bed now, a headache blurring his vision as he tried to read it again. The paper was old, crinkled, and seeming to appear water stained in certain places. He could only imagine Savannah crying as she wrote it.
The only bit of comfort he gained from it was that she was with Wyatt. He knew Wyatt would take care of her. 1923. Unbelievable.
He had to do something. He couldn't just sit here. Not when there were angels out there he could try to destroy.
[Establishy as I'm going to be in and out all day, and then AFK this evening for a few hours at least.]