"Yup," I mutter. "You?"
"I will be after I take the longest, hottest shower of my life," he says, brushing dirt off his clothes and plucking a leaf out of my hair like it matters after we rolled down a fucking ditch. "First, we call a tow truck, tell them we ran over a broken beer bottle, and get checked out at the hospital. Then we arrange for a hotel. The first flight home tomorrow leaves at nine in the morning."
"Oh, no. We're not going home yet," I say with a low chuckle, cracking my aching neck and then my knuckles. "This shit's just gettin' started."
Plague looks up from his phone. He's already Googling the Northwyke tow companies. "You can't be serious. This isinsane, Whiskey. He knows who we are. He threatened to kill us. We're done."
"We're not fucking done. We came all the way to Canada to find out what this asshole's up to, and I'm not going home with mytail between my legs just because he popped our tire and waved a knife around."
"He didn't just wave it around!" Plague snaps, gesturing at my ruined jacket. "He nearly gutted you like a fish!"
"Yeah, well, he didn't succeed, did he? And now we know he's got something to hide. Why else would he fuckin' react like that?"
Plague stares at me like I've lost my goddamn mind. Maybe I have. But there's something about the way Valek went from zero to murder that tells me we're onto something big here.
"We don't have acar," Plague points out, gesturing wildly at our overturned SUV that's currently smoking like it might catch fire any second. "We're in themiddle of nowhere. We'rebleeding. And our target just made itabundantlyclear what will happen if we keep following him."
"So we compromise. We'll get our heads checked at the hospital to make sure our brains are intact after the wreck. I'll give you that. But then, we're getting another car. We clean up. And we be more fucking careful." I stomp up the rest of the ditch, ignoring the way my back screams in protest. "We'll be back before Saturday's game. Jetlagged asfuck,but… Scout's promise."
"It's Scout'shonor."
"There's the Plague I know," I say, grinning at him.
He rolls his eyes, but he's following me up the embankment anyway. Because that's what Plague does. He bitches and moans, but he always has my back when it counts.
Even when I'm being a stubborn jackass who's about to drag us both to hell.
Chapter
Fifty-Four
WRAITH
My blacked-out SUV feels like a coffin on wheels, and I'm driving myself to my own fucking funeral.
Charleston feels painfully far from Ivy even though it's only twenty minutes from the motel in Cedarbrook. My hands grip the steering wheel so tight my knuckles ache through the fingerless gloves.
Every mile marker makes my chest tighter.
Like fucking chains are around my ribs.
Gordon Health Center sits on the edge of Charleston's medical district, a modern building that tries too hard to look welcoming with its warm brick facade and carefully maintained landscaping.
I've been coming here since I was...
Fuck, I don't even remember anymore.
Feels like forever.
Feels like yesterday.
Feels like every visit strips another fucking layer of humanity from whatever's left of me.
The parking lot's half empty this early. I sit in the SUV for a full minute after turning off the engine, just breathing. In through my nose. Out through the mask. The familiar rhythm of panic trying to claw its way up my throat.
Get it over with.
The receptionist's face lights up the moment she sees me.
