Page 71 of The Brotherhood

“Or there’s more to the drunk than we think,” Fin finished. He glanced back toward the old man, who was now humming to himself, lost in whatever haze kept him tethered to the moment.

CHAPTER 16

Sneaky AL

The boat bumped the dock, rocking slightly as 8-Bit cut the engine. A low fog curled over the water, thick and unmoving, clinging to the surface like a second skin. The air was dense with cold, the kind that didn’t bite but sank into your bones and clung like blackjack mud. The swamp didn’t get snow, but it still turned cold enough to make you want to forgive sins just for the sake of sharing body heat. An option he didn’t get due to his fucked up condition.

His breath came out in thin wisps as he hoisted his gear over his shoulder and navigated the slick wood slats on the pier, eyeing the tangled, skeletal trees for signs of the ass-crack of dawn threatening the horizon.

His mind locked on to what he was headed into. Eveque dying every hour. He started up the stone steps leading to the back entrance of the Creole King’s med building. And Cat was hiding something. Thanks to fucking Big G and AL. They’d gotten too far into her head.

As he walked, he pulled out his phone, opening the map showing him where the Twelve were, enroute. Fifteen minutes tops before they got there.

His phone buzzed and he closed the map, looking.

Speaking of the digital demon. His innocent brother AL.

8-Bit answered. “What.”

“Aww, don’t be like that, champ.”

“Like what? Pissed that you two got into Cat’s head?”

He filled the phone with an exaggerated moan. “Okay, so, first of all—”

“Don’t. Don’t bullshit me.”

“We just guided her.”

“You pushed her toward something she isn’t ready for.I’mnot ready for.” He aimed for the door at the back of the building now.

“…Are you still mad?”

8-Bit came to a complete stop at his fucking nerve. “Mad?”

“Okay, okay, look,” he pled. “How about I make it up to you?”

8-Bit resumed his power stalk. “Not interested.”

“Not even if it’sreallygood?”

“AL, I swear to God—”

“Check your messages.”

Something in AL’s tone made him pause when he reached the door. He flicked open his inbox and stared at a single phone number. He grit his teeth and put the phone back to his ear. “No name. No context. No more patience.”

“That, my dear glitch-god, is the direct line to the Boss of Anarchy himself.”

8-Bit froze. “No.”

“Oh yes,” he whispered, his tone erotic.

“No.”

“Yes.”

His pulse kicked up. Master of fucking Mayhem. The bastard had broken into their systems once, but it had been enough to prove a powerful point. And now? Tables turned, you dumb digit.

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