Page 90 of Sacrifice
Time to go.
When I emerge from the trees, the motel's on fire.
Beautiful orange flames licking at the night sky. Magnus grins when he sees me.
"Meth lab in room 2. Couple of incendiaries and whoosh." He mimics an explosion. "Tragic accident, these old motels. Dangerous places."
"Bodies?"
"What bodies? All I see is a terrible fire that destroyed any evidence of anything." Rio snickers. "Shame about those tourists who were staying there. Should've picked a better motel."
"And the runner?"
"What runner?" I ask. "I was never in those woods. None of us were ever here."
"Exactly."
We load up, bikes roaring to life.
The fire's spreading now, consuming evidence and any questions that would go along with it.
By morning, it'll be ashes and mystery.
Local cops will chalk it up to the meth lab, maybe rival dealers.
Case closed before it opens.
Doran's guys peel off at the first intersection, professional to the end.
No waves, no acknowledgment.
Just ghosts in the night who were never there.
The ride back is a quiet victory mixed with exhaustion.
My arm's screaming now, adrenaline fading.
Pretty sure I tore every stitch Gwen put in.
The knife work didn't help, but pain's just information, and right now it's telling me I won.
Tor's cocktail is wearing off too, leaving me shaky and nauseous.
Price of chemical courage, but I'd pay it again for tonight's results.
The clubhouse is still lit when we return, families waiting for news.
Old ladies nursing coffee and worry, prospects trying to look useful.
I brush past the questions and back-slaps, needing to see her.
She's awake, curled in the chair by the window with the gun her dad gave her in her lap.
Watching the door like she's been there all night.
Hair pulled back, my t-shirt swapped for jeans and a tank top.
Ready for war if it came to her.
