Page 256 of Carved in the Shadows

We spread out.

Circling around the backside of the cabin, remaining at least a hundred feet away.

Chaos whisked in from the edges. A reined lawlessness that crackled the atmosphere.

That quiet, stilled moment before the storm.

A second later, the roar of engines splintered through the atmosphere. A violent shout of what was to come.

A disarray of lights speared through the trees as a slew of motorcycles jetted in on the opposite side of the cabin.

They were off their bikes with their guns drawn in a flash. Rushing in like a blitz play on the field while the rest of us crept up to the backside of the cabin.

A crash echoed as the front door was busted in, a thunder of feet and raucous voices.

Silas’s phone rang.

“What’s happening?” he growled when he answered.

“Place is empty.” I could hear the garble of Fuse’s voice through the phone. “But he was here. Recently. Food is still hot on the table.”

“Fuck,” Silas spat, then he stood, shouting, “Everyone spread out. Asshole is running. Do not let this piece of shit get away.”

He would find no hesitation in me. I turned on my heel and was moving. Dipping back into the same woods we’d just emerged from, though I headed east. Rushing farther up the mountainside.

Hunting through the labyrinth of trees. An endless maze of spindly pines intersected by broad oaks that made it difficult to see more than twenty feet ahead.

My gut led me in that direction, anyway.

The unquenched thirst driving me into mayhem as I inclined every sense toward tracking this monster.

Every muscle in my body was gripped by hate.

Brutality laying siege.

The sounds of the night called through the trees.

The mournful drone of swishing branches and the hoot of an owl that trumped like a warning.