Page 92 of Misery
Cops coming? Thiago's already three blocks away.
Parents looking for someone to blame? He's gone in the wind.
It was a talent that kept him alive in our neighborhood where being visible meant being a target.
The room's full of members.
Runes at the head, president's patch heavy on his shoulders.
Cigarette burning between his fingers even though we banned smoking in here years ago.
Nobody's going to tell him no today.
Fenrir—my father—in his corner, watching everything with those eyes that miss nothing.
Still as stone but I know he's processing everything, planning ten moves ahead.
Tor and Dag arguing about search sectors, their voices rising and falling like a tide.
Regnor on the phone with contacts, speaking rapid Spanish to someone who owes him favors.
Everyone doing something except finding Ivar.
"Los Coyotes safe houses?" Runes asks.
"All empty," Magnus confirms. "Either they don't have him or they're keeping him somewhere off the books."
"Or Thiago's not taking him to Los Coyotes at all," I suggest. The thought's been eating at me like acid. "He's using them, buthe's not loyal to them. This is personal.Everythingwith him is personal."
"Personal how?" Tor asks. "What's this fucker's deal? Why take Ivar if he wants the girl?"
I should tell them, should have told them hours ago, but the words stick in my throat like broken glass.
How do you explain a friendship that went from brotherhood to this?
How do you explain Thiago without explaining myself?
"Check properties from our childhood," I say instead. "Places we used to go. Abandoned buildings, old hangouts. He'd want somewhere familiar. Somewhere with meaning."
Vanir starts typing. "Give me specifics."
"The old Morris farmhouse off Route 9. Abandoned warehouse district by the river. That closed-down motel on Highway 44—the Starlite."
Each place holds memories I'd rather forget.
Getting drunk on stolen whiskey for the first time.
Learning to fight with broken bottles and desperation.
Planning futures that never happened.
"He knows them all. We mapped out the whole county when we were kids. Every hiding spot. Every escape route."
"Why?" Magnus asks. "What were you running from?"
"Everything. Nothing. Just running to run."
But that's not true. We were running from who we were supposed to become. Funny how we became it anyway.
