"I have never, never, killed a boy who left me, Mary. Never. And I never intend to. But Slater seemed to think it was fair game, killing a child because he was sick of being beaten every minute of the night." He was hissing now, the blood boiling in his veins. "Georgie was my responcibility! Mine! And he got killed by Slater. And now Slater wants to have Nell, and Piper, and Robin and Illya and the rest! All of them! He ain't going to keep asking nicely, neither. He'll take what he wants, soon enough, and he'll have them beaten too, if they fight him. And then they'll be killed if they try to leave."
He had to catch his breath, force himself to be calm. He didn't want to drive Mary out, not after everything, not after Viv. But none of these women seemed to care about him, about his boys. They loved Slater, just wanted Slater to get through it alright, damn Harry to hell. Oh, they made a big show about caring for the Theatre, about the boys, but they didn't really give a rat's arse. "Look, Mary. If I don't fight, Slater will walk all over me. Kill me. If I fight back, I'm protecting what's mine. My boys. My theatre. My family. My home. See? Slater just wants more and more and more. Do you understand that?"