Page 95 of Misery
Failure tastes like copper in my mouth.
We're no closer to finding Ivar.
No closer to stopping Thiago.
Just running in circles he's drawing for us like we're rats in his maze.
Back at the chapel, I'm staring at the map when my father approaches.
He moves quietly for a big man.
A lifetime of violence taught him to walk soft, strike hard.
He's wearing his old cut, the leather so worn it's soft as cloth.
The patches tell stories of decades in this life.
"Outside," he says. Not a request.
We stand in the parking lot, afternoon sun beating down like judgment.
He lights a cigarette, offers me one.
I take it even though I quit years ago.
Today seems like a good day for bad habits.
"You're distracted," he says after a long drag. Smoke curls between us like secrets. "This is more than just Ivar being taken."
"It's complicated."
"Most truths are." He studies me with those eyes that used to catch every lie when I was a kid. Still do. "This Thiago. He means something to you."
"We were close. Before."
"Like a brother?"
"Something like that." I take a drag, let the smoke burn. "We had plans. Stupid kid shit. We were going to leave this place. Make something of ourselves. Not end up like our parents—broken, drunk, violent, no offense. We were going to be different."
"What happened?"
"Life. Reality. He went to Mexico chasing some girl. I stayed. Heard he died down there. Moved on. Except he didn't die. Just became something worse."
"And now he wants your woman."
It's not a question.
Dad always could read situations like books, probably why he survived this long in this life.
"He's been watching her," I admit. "Maybe longer than I have."
My father's eyebrow raises slightly. The only sign of surprise. "And how long have you been watching her?"
The question I've been dreading. The truth that burns worse than whiskey on an empty stomach.
"Close to eight months. Since the first attack. Runes assigned me to watch for threats to families. I chose her."
"But it became more than that."
