"That's where I left him, yeah," Raylan said with a nod, swallowing past the knuckle of guilt in his throat. "Malcolm, I left him there. How could I do that? How does it matter how fucking scared I was??"

There was a very real, big, bundle of failure that Raylan had to deal with. He'd left Neal. Neal. The man he'd died with. The man he'd reconnected just a few days before with. It wasn't fair. He should have done better.

What if Neal was dead?