Chapter
Thirty-Seven
"Come on, Charlie. Just twenty push-ups. It's good for stress."
Charlie looked up from his phone. He'd been trying to distract himself by scrolling reels. Brent was in the middle of the room, shirtless and glistening, halfway through what he'd called his "prison workout routine."
"I'm not stressed," Charlie lied.
"Bullshit." Brent dropped into another push-up. "We're all stressed."
Brent had a point there.
Two days holed up in a roadside motel did things to a person. Or vampire. Whatever.
"Your elbows are flaring," Simon said from the bed, not looking up from the book Viktor had grabbed from a gas station, some thriller about a detective who didn't know his partner was the killer. "You'll hurt your shoulders."
Brent paused mid-push-up. "Really?"
"Tuck them in. Forty-five-degree angle from your torso."
Brent adjusted his form and continued, his movements more controlled now. "Better?"
Simon glanced over. "Much."
"You know about fitness?" Brent sounded delighted, like a kid finding out his teacher played video games.
"I know about not getting injured." Simon turned a page. "The Organization was big on functional strength training."
"That's so cool. What kind of programs did they have you on?"
Charlie watched them, something warm unfurling in his chest. His best friend and his... whatever Simon was to him now. Boyfriend seemed insufficient for someone who'd literally turned into a vampire to save him.
"Mostly combat conditioning," Simon said. "Endurance work. Flexibility training."
"Flexibility?" Brent's eyes lit up. "Dude, we should totally do yoga together. I've been trying to get Charlie to join me for years, but he just won't do it."
Fortunately, Charlie was spared from responding to that when the door opened and Viktor entered, bringing the smell of rain and exhaust fumes.
"Anything?" Simon asked, setting his book aside.
Viktor shook his head. "Town's quiet." He pulled off his wet jacket. "No Organization presence that I can detect."
"Maybe they gave up," Charlie suggested hopefully.
Three sets of eyes turned to him with identical expressions of 'you can't be serious.'
"Right. Stupid thought."
A knock at the door made everyone freeze.
Had someone followed Viktor?
Simon's hand went to the knife on his belt.
"It's me," a familiar voice called. "Noah. Your friendly librarian."
Simon's grip on the knife didn't loosen. "How did you find us?"
