Page 73 of Chaos

“Ephie says you were running low on ammo, too. Tell me about that.”

He fakes a yawn. “I’m not telling you anything, Yorke. Unless you’re ready to agree to a deal, you can fuck off.”

He doesn’t know Roanoke and the Raiders are negotiating with Colleen, and interrogators have been telling him all week that his only deal is not dying, but I go ahead and ask, “What deal do you think we’d possibly give you?”

“A ride out to the interstate, three gallons of water, and three days of food.”

“I’m not taking you anywhere and you know it. Not without proof you know something, first.”

He glances at the door, where Church, Wendell, and Jacquetta are all watching through the window. “I’m not so sure.”

“Because, honestly, Ben, I don’t think you know anything. I think it was Renata that made the moves and plans, and maybe you got lucky once with the Raiders and cut a deal. Butaside from that …” I scoff at him, let my eyes drop to his shoulders and back up, like I think they’re pathetic. “I think you’re beneath everyone’s notice.”

“That’s what you think?” he grins.

“Yeah, it is.”

“Okay, Major Yorke Hardt Garrett. Hoofucking-rah.”

I keep my body still. “Everyone knows my rank. Doesn’t prove shit.”

“No? What if I say … Operational Detachment. On the team that took down the international bald dictator.” He glares gleefully at me, relishing the moment, his colorless eyes darkening. “There were women and children in that bunker in Sochi. Bullets flying. I hear they blasted music when you breached the perimeter and turned on strobe lights to mess with your heads. You had nightmares for months, waking up with a smoking gun and the bodies of children burned into your retinas. Wondering where your bullets may have strayed.”

A blast of sensory data rocks me to my feet. I’ve swallowed that memory down into my soul and tried never to think about it.

But I do know where my bullets went.

None of them went rogue.

Those women and children were killed by their own guards.

I haven’t even told Frankie about that. The only people supposed to know about that are me, the other three soldiers who went in that bunker with me—one of whom died that day—and the psych doctor I was forced to talk to after.

But they’d have entered it into a file somewhere, stored it in a need-to-know limited access database.

“Told you,” Ben breathes. “How about that interstate.”

If Lavinia Hope has access to my psych file, she has enough power running to access data frames, satellites maybe, CCTV, who knows what else, and beyond that, smart people working with her.

And she’s asking around, reaching out to people like Renata and Ben looking for me.

And Duffy, the man who brought Renata’s letter, had heard of me too, knew I’d burned the town.

It’s only a matter of time before rumors of a Yorke from Thornewood beating men and burning towns collide with people asking about Major Yorke Garrett. And when it does? What new hell will I rain down on this place?

We need to leave.

Me and Frankie, Auden and Beast, and Shane. Is it best for him too?

My mouth is suddenly dry, and I’m not even bothering to hide it from Ben. What is he? Compared to Lavinia Hope with access to government satellites and intelligence. Does she have drones?

“Look at the big GI Joe at a loss for words,” Ben says, his words coming in as if from a great distance.

I should stand up now.

Go pack our bags.

“Want me to keep talking? I know more. I could tell you …” Ben keeps going. “What the inside of Frankie’s ass feels like.”

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