Page 19 of Warrior

“Are you okay?” Saint asks.

I make some vague noise. The real answer is no, of course I’m not okay. But how do I tell him that when he’s never been fucking honest with me about how he’s doing?

And true to fashion, he does not open up and spill his guts to me. He doesn’t say that he’s not okay, or that he’s indifferent, or anything of the sort. He just drives.

My brother, Wolfe, and Jace are in Emerald Cove. That’s the only other town in the county, and directly south from Sterling Falls. The easiest way to get there is by ferry. The other way is driving, although it adds almost a half hour onto the journey.

They’re there to complete the favor for Reese. The old friend who needs saving.

Hmm.

Maybe them being out of the way is better… Less chance of my brother being hurt by the Cyclopes.

Although isn’t it suspicious timing? Them leaving on some errand just as a new gang moves in?

“I have to stop by the sheriff’s,” Saint says in a low voice. “He wanted my statement, some bullshit about how we found you.”

I shrug and slide my phone from my sweatshirt pocket. Someone was kind enough to locate and return it to me, although I haven’t been able to go through it before now.

My head is pounding. I don’t even unlock the phone, just pretend to be busy on it while Saint turns toward the center of town.

He parks and glances at me, then rolls down the windows. Like I’m a dog?

“Just leave it running,” I say.

He sighs, seeming to want to argue with me, then gives up on it and nods. “Five minutes. Ten, tops.”

“Whatever.”

He heads inside, his long stride eating up the wide, shallow marble steps. As soon as he’s out of sight, I get out and circle around, taking the driver’s seat.

My trip won’t take me long. I park in front of the bar, pocketing the keys and walking inside like I am meant to be here. Like I’m not currently in danger just by being in West Falls.

Laughable.

I can barely think over my headache, and my skin crawls, too. I’m covered in a clammy sweat, and pretending I was fine for Saint was hard enough.

Pretending I’m well enough to walk into Madness is an entirely different beast.

Squaring my shoulders, I look around at the nearly empty bar and restaurant. I take a seat at the bar, only a twitch of my lips revealing the pain.

The bartender stops in front of me. This guy is new—not the one who got the knife to the back, because I’m fairly certain that guy died. Or at the very least, was physically maimed beyond being able to work here anymore.

“What can I get you?”

I lift my chin. “I’m pretty sure you know who I need to talk to. The last time someone said his name, though, a lot of people got their asses kicked.”

He scoffs. “You don’t look like you could win against a field mouse.”

Well, probably not in this condition. But the comment smarts.

“I’m scrappier than I seem.” My head gives anotherthudof pain, right between my eyes, and reminds me why I’m here. “Now, is he here?”

There’s a back office. I could just head in that direction, but I figure that’s not very polite of me.

He finally sighs and goes to the wall, picking up a phone off the receiver.

Old school.

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