Malcolm squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his face into Raylan’s shoulder as he pulled him into an embrace. Some tension eased out of him and he let out a shaky breath, gripping the back of that same shoulder for dear life.

“Not all the dead come back,” he murmured numbly. “We don’t know what happens when someone gets murdered by another one of... us. I don’t want to be part of finding out.” Neither as the killer nor the victim, no matter how unintentional.