Page 44 of Savage Surrender

Owen hits the steering wheel. The horn blasts through the sleeping street and makes all of us jump. “Those fuckers are so goddamn dead.”

I sit up and put my hands on the two front seats. “New rule. When one of us knows something, we all know it. Not when it’s safe. Not when somebody decides I have the right disposition for the information.”

Freddie immediately agrees. “She’s right.”

“If you want to know the reason I didn’t tell you,” Weller says. “You bit a guard’s ear half off because he shoved me. You wanted to run back into danger to find Owen. You act as if something happening to you would only affect you.”

Ezra used to go quiet on me in exactly that way.

“I’d do it again. That’s the point of a pack. We look out for each other. Don’t do the math for me and call it protection. If you’re scared, say that. Argue with me. I can take it.”

Up ahead, the road is flashing blue and red. There’s a line of taillights stacked behind a delivery van, with cones directing traffic.

“That’s for us,” I say.

Tristan is already twisted toward the rear glass. “Does anyone see the drone?”

Nothing black moves above the road, but it doesn’t matter. The likelihood that we’re being tracked somehow is high. Owen takes a turn down a residential street. Dark houses slide by, recycling bins at the curb and a basketball hoop where someone gets to be a kid and have a normal life.

Every road on this side seems to feed back into the checkpoint.

“Okay, we’re fucked. We need to cut across, but it will add hours to the drive. And the car has already been seen.” Owen bangs on the dash.

Tristan leans forward. “I have a place.”

Weller turns to look at him.

“A place,” I repeat. “Connected to the heir of a psychopath, or are we getting creative?”

“It’s isolated, not in my name, and should be relatively prepared for us.”

“Tristan, what place are you referring to?” Weller asks.

“Wrecker’s Point. Four hours east.”

Freddie twists in his seat. “Well, that’s vague. Can you elaborate? Is it a treasure hunt excursion? A bunker? An island you purchased secretly?”

“Not the whole island.”

“That’s not a complete answer,” Weller says.

Tristan holds me tighter, infuriatingly calm. “I’ll explain when we get there.”

“Or Weller can cut it out of you. He still has the scalpel.” I pinch his arm, getting his attention.

“He can try, sweetheart.”

“Tristan.” I tilt my head back against his shoulder so he has to look at me. “The rule is twenty minutes old and you’re already breaking it.”

“The location isn’t a threat to anyone in this car.” The lazy edge stays in his voice, but his eyes drop it. “And I’ve waited a long time for it to be a surprise. Fine me later.”

Tristan’s thumb stops against my ribs.

I let my head fall back against his shoulder. “Fine. Keep it.”

“Generous little tyrant.” He presses his mouth to my hair.

Asshole.