Page 124 of Gambler's Fallacy

I glance back toward the shack. From this angle, the cars aren’t visible, although the gunshots still ring out loudly.

I keep moving, following the trails. I lose them in the brush for a bit, before picking up the trail again a few feet later. The sun is getting lower in the sky, but it’s still sweltering hot. I’m glad for the hat and sunglasses, and the water bottle I have clipped to my belt.

The trail leads me to a crevice in the rocks, barely large enough for somebody to slip through. I can’t see what’s on the other side—but I do see a blood smear along the rock.

Fuck.

I suck in my breath and squeeze in. The temperature immediately drops in the shaded path. I can see somebody hiding in here to escape the heat. Seven probably thought he’d be well hidden in here. He would have been, if not for his footprints on the dusty desert rock.

“I’m not going to hurt you!” Earl’s voice echoes. “I just want to reunite you with your family!”

There’s no response, but anger flares within me.

Reunite him.

Like it wouldn’t be tantamount to torture.

I would wonder if Earl even knows what he’d be returning Seven to, but I don’t think he’d care. He has dollar signs in his eyes — and desperation driving him. Men like that don’t care about the well-being of others.

My mother’s terrified expression fills my vision. She still hasn’t been able to leave the Step Asshole. Seven did what she couldn’t. Seven got out.

I’m not going to let Earl send Seven back to that.

The path widens, and I tread lightly as I approach Earl. He has his back turned to me, and he’s looking up.

I follow his gaze. My eyes widen when I see Seven desperately scrambling up the steep cliffside path. His arm is scraped up.

Earl is following at a much slower pace, probably scared of stepping wrong.

If I shoot and miss, the bullet might ricochet off the rock. I can’t risk hitting Seven. I holster the gun, approaching slowly.

“Where are you going, anyway?” Earl shouts. “It’s nothing but desert out there! You’ll die!”

Seven lets out a hysterical laugh, but he keeps stumbling along the path.

For all that he’s bleakly told us again and again that he’s going to end up going back — hell, he’d told us we should send him back — I’ve never been more sure that it would break him.

He’d rather die in the desert than go back to the family that abused him.

Earl reaches up for another handhold.

I rush forward and grab his foot.

“What the f—” Earl yells, and I pull him hard. He crashes down against me, but I breathe through the pain of the impact.

“You aren’t touching him,” I growl.

“You!” Earl starts blubbering incoherently. He remembers the beating I gave him last time. He tries to scramble away, but I punch him in the face before flinging him hard against the rock wall.

“You didn’t get enough of this last time?” I punch him again.

He moans, dazed, and shakes his head. “M-my father—He?—”

I don’t give a fuck what Leon Spade wants. I kick Earl in the gut, then punch his face again. His nose cracks and blood gushes out.

Seven cries out, and I hear movement on the desert rock. “Havoc!” His voice is high with panic. “Don’t! You’ll kill him!”

It shouldn’t matter. This piece of shit deserves to die.

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