Page 83 of Running Feral

“What?”

I hear my own voice as the word comes out, but it seems echoey and distant, like I didn’t really say it. I repeat myself, just to check, but it sounds the same. I might repeat myself a couple of times, I’m not sure.

The way Sav and Gunnar are both looking at me like a lost little lamb is a strong hint that I might not be taking this news very well.

“Maybe we should talk about this upstairs.” Gunnar looks nervous, his gaze flicking between me and Sav.

“No.” I try to mentally shake myself out of my stupor. It doesn’t totally work, so I physically shake my head, and that wakes me up a little. Reality sinks in and I feel like my mind is at least attempting to wrap itself around what Sav just said. “Let’s just get it over with. I’m sure there isn’t much to say, right?”

Sav nods once, tight-lipped. I don’t even want to speculate what he knows. I don’t really care.

“He’s dead?” I ask, to quiet the anxiety spiking in my mind.

He nods again. “Dead. All the way dead, not ‘set you up for a jump scare later’, horror-movie mostly dead.Deaddead.”

I appreciate his candor. I think I needed the long version of the sentence for it to sink in.

Gunnar opens his mouth silently for a second, searching for the right words. “And you… You know this for sure? It’s not just hearsay?”

Sav looks at him now, his mouth set in a straight line and his knuckles whitening where his fists rest on the bar.

“Like I said. Dead.”

“Okay.” Gunnar nods, looking a little shell-shocked as well. “Okay. That’s good. Okay.”

“You’re babbling, sweetie.” I don’t know why I find it hilarious that he’s coming unglued when I am as well, but it’s almost surreal enough to make me laugh.

Gunnar snaps his head to the side, his eyes wide as he takes me in and his mouth halfway open to protest. Then he thinks about it for a second, and a nervous exhale-chuckle sound slips out of him.

“Yeah, well, you started it,” he says, half of his mouth curling up in a small smile as he looks at me.

“I’m a helpless victim. I’m supposed to be in shock, remember? You’re supposed to be the calm, rational one. If you start babbling and getting hysterical as well, who’s going to carry me to the fainting couch while I recover from this terrible ordeal?”

The whole thing comes out in this completely flat, deadpan voice, but my eyes are bright and I can feel a hint of a smile playing around my face as well.

It’s enough to make Gunnar crack. He laughs then, deeply. It’s pure relief, I think. The kind of crash that comes after being strung together by nothing but adrenaline and anxiety for too many days to keep track of.

“You’re okay?” he asks as he reaches out, pulling me into his side for a half-hug. Before I can even answer, he kisses the top of my head in that way he does sometimes, and I can feel a blush threatening to paint my cheeks at the raw affection. I duck my face into his neck to hide it, but it’s still there.

“I’m okay,” I mumble directly into his skin, before breathing in the scent of him to help fix myself in this moment.

We’re interrupted by the sound of Sav clearing his throat, and we both turn our attention back to him. He’s staring at us, his face blank, but obviously not nearly as amused by the situation as we are.

Not that we’re legitimately amused. More hysterically relieved.

“You guys are weird,” he says. “I guess you match that way. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know. And you don’t want to know the details, but there have been some changes in the Banna hierarchy. Some people have shuffled around. Long story short, no one expects you back. You are being granted a walking pass as a one-time exception for services rendered.”

My eyebrows raise, because as elated as I am to not be hunted down by a bunch of mafia thugs, I want to know exactly what he’s implying.

“By ‘shuffled around’, do you mean Patrick? Is someone else taking charge?” I stare at him for a second before the pieces click into place. “Are you taking charge?”

Sav snorts, and it’s the most emotion I’ve seen from him so far in this murder-adjacent conversation. “Fuck no. I hate those dumbcunts. I’m not leading shit. I’m staying right here, with you guys. And Micah.”

His voice catches a little when he says ‘Micah’, but I don’t call him out on it. I still don’t understand the nature of their relationship, but I’m getting a strong impression that it’s less brotherly and more something else. He’ll tell us when he’s ready.

“So that’s it?” Gunnar asks, looking between the two of us. “It’s all just over? I didn’t have to sell the soul of my firstborn in a dark alley or something? This seems kind of anticlimactic, I’m not going to lie.”

Another snort from Sav. “Trust me. It was very climactic, you just weren’t there for it. Again: you’re welcome.”

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