He turned slightly when I walked in.
“Shit crazy, bro, and I still can’t hear,” he said bitterly.
“Damn, shit fucked up.” I shook my head.
“Huh?”
I stepped closer.
“I said—can you hear me?”
“Not really,” he muttered. “One side gone.”
I nodded once.
I grabbed his shoulder lightly, turning him a bit so I could really see it.
That shit was bad.
“Yeah,” I said low. “That’s fucked up.”
He let out a short breath.
“No shit.”
I stepped back.
Looked around the room once.
Then shook my head.
“It don’t feel right here. We can’t plot here.”
He frowned slightly. “Huh?”
“It’s not safe here.”
I turned toward the door. “Get your shit.”
Zay didn’t argue.
Just moved.
Slow, but steady.
A few minutes later, we were downstairs.
My driver already waiting.
We got in.
Pulled off.
The city faded behind us the further we drove.
Desert stretching out ahead.
Hidden.
