Page 83 of Karma

Rogue is looking at us every intently and I resist the urge to curse at him. I made my request for his help in confidence. Not so he could hand Cross something else to hold over me and my brothers and sisters. Since the battle, they’ve let us keep our weapons and haven’t been watching us so very closely anymore. They trust us now. I was hoping that meant we could leave soon.

“No, it’s no way to live,” I say. “But what choice do we have?”

“You’ve proven your worth to us,” he says.

I killed exactly no one in that battle. Grim killed the man who shot Scorpio, and he was on our side. Luckily no one noticed. The rest of our MC didn’t kill anyone either. That is it. But we emerged from the battle covered in Scorpio’s blood and dust and it looked as it looked—like we gave our all to the fight.

“When this is over, we will help you get new identities,” Cross says. “You’ll be able to live freely then.”

“If we live at all,” I say instead of thanking him. So I deserve the hard, piercing look he gives me.

“There’s always that possibility,” he says. “But my offer extends to any of you left standing. Pass it on.”

I nod. “Thank you. I wish we could’ve helped you more.”

He shrugs and says nothing, but I bet he’s wishing the same thing.

Hawk, their intel officer walks in, carrying his thick, serious-looking black laptop, and steals Cross’ attention away from me. As serious as the guy’s tech looks, I doubt he has any news for us today. He comes several times a day to inform us of that nevertheless.

He projects some pictures of the desert from his laptop onto the wall and is just about to start explaining what we’re looking at when Ice walks in. As always when Ice joins us, the roomgrows dead still and dead silent. There’s over twenty people in here and I can’t hear a single breath being taken, let alone anything else.

He’s not handling our inability to find his daughter well. I’m pretty sure he’s already lost his mind over it and I’m sure I’m not the only one who thinks that.

“What is this?” he asks. “A slideshow from your last trip?”

Hawk clears his throat and looks right past him, unable to meet his stone hard gaze. I’ve seen them arguing a lot, we all have, that’s probably why everyone is still quiet as mice.

“This is some long-lost town in the middle of the desert,” Hawk says. “And everything points to it being the place where Joker has Eden.”

“You said that about the last three places we hit.”

“But this time, the signs are clearer,” Hawk says.

Everything from the grimace on Ice’s face to the way he’s balling his hands into fists so hard his arms are shaking is telling me he’s fighting hard not to get his hopes up. Hope in a hopeless situation is the worst sort of pain. I should know. It’s been my life. He’s probably also trying not to start yet another fight with Hawk.

“What’s left of the MCs warring against us have been converging on this place for days,” Hawk says. “All my eyes and ears are telling me that. They’ve been doing it in clumps of ten or twenty, but it’s been non-stop and it’s happening day and night. Something’s brewing. Something big.”

“And these photos are the best you have of the area?” the Devils’ VP, Tank asks.

“Unfortunately,” Hawk says. “They’ve been shooting down all the drones I’ve sent. Only one got through and back. The town is smack in the middle of a lot of hills. Whoever built it didn’t want to be found.”

“And that’s the only road in and out?” Cross asks, pointing at a winding line that reminds me of a snake.

“There’s ways in over the hills,” Hawk says. “But they’ll be guarding those, guaranteed.”

Cross walks closer to the projection and studies the pictures.

This must be the place Scorpio told us about the last time we were together in peace. The town of Justice where we could live free, hidden away from the rest of the world. The cramp in my throat is so painful I can’t take a breath.

“We’ll be trapped the moment we ride in,” Cross says. “How sure are you this is where they’re holding her?”

Ice isn’t looking at them. He’s the only one. Instead, he’s clutching his phone, his whole arm shaking as he gazes at the screen.

“What is it?” Cross asks him.

“It’s a text from that bastard. It says, “You’re invited to Justice. She’s waiting for you.” There’s a map attached… and another photo…”

His voice is breaking up like ice cracking under your feet on a dark winter night.

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