Page 9 of Chased

He always touched that date now. Remembering.

Cisco carved his own line, from the top end of Matéo’s down to the bottom left corner, making an upside-down V. “Yo sobrevivo.”

Then he handed off to Sanchez. He took the knife, feeling its familiar heft in his hand. His cousins had never realized the weight of responsibility he felt for them—he’d never wanted them to know. But it still lay heavy on him, even though they were grown. He’d been stupid lucky to get all of them this far without dying.

He still felt like he was the only thing holding them together. If he kept on like he’d been going—if anything happened to him—would they make it?

He shoved the thought away and walked up to the wall. “Yo sobrevivo,” he said, his voice rough with emotion he never showed. He carved his own line, straight across the bottom, connecting the other two. The base of the triangle. The foundation.

He sat back down, raising his glass, and they both did the same. He looked both of them in the eyes, one after the other. “The family makes us strong. The family survives.”

They raised their glasses. “La familia sobreviva.” As one, they downed their bourbon, drinking to life. Tenacity. Luck. Hope.

They sat silently for a minute, and then Cisco said quietly, “You know, I kind of do want a mate. I want my family to survive after I’m gone.”

“Me too,” Matéo said. “Do you think we’ll ever have that?”

“Switch got a mate,” Cisco added. “We’re not that much more fucked up than him.”

Switch snorted. They probably were, but he didn’t say it. “You can never tell. Weirder shit has happened.”

Cisco gave him a half-smile.

They got up to leave and Sanchez grabbed them both, pulling them all together so their foreheads touched, like he always did. He wasn’t a mushy kind of guy, but he loved these dickheads. For some reason.

The other two went out, and he heard them dropping their clothes, ready to Change and run.

Sanchez looked at the candle burning, and the three glasses. La familia. But they wanted more.

And deep down where he didn’t admit it, he did too.

He just didn’t think any of them were ever going to get it. Blowing out the candle, he was surprised by how hollow that thought made him feel.

Chapter 5

Five days later Madison arrived in the tiny town of Rockhaven, New York around nine o’clock in the morning, on foot, having learned three things.

One: Rockhaven was the closest town to Outlaw Ridge.

Two: It was in the middle of fucking nowhere, uphill from everywhere, at the end of a lonely country road on which, apparently, there was absolutely no traffic even on a Monday morning. Not even a crusty old farmer or a mountain militiaman, heading into town to get more canned goods for his bunker. So if your car broke down, you were shit out of luck.

Three: the super-cute sneakers she’d brought with her from Colorado were utterly inadequate for long-distance hiking. She had blisters.

When she first left Shady Valley, everything had gone miraculously well. In only a few hours she’d crossed the nearest state line, where any potential missing vehicle report from Colorado wouldn’t be on the cops’ radar yet. Then she headed east.

She made it to New York state in four days—and then it all went to hell. She’d turned off the main highway into the Adirondacks, and immediately her car had started having weird electrical problems, cutting the motor intermittently, and frying her car chargers without her realizing it. Her tablet and burner phone had both died.

Without GPS, she’d ended up totally lost. Then late last night, just when she’d almost gotten back to the right road, her car gave it up for good.

She’d spent the night huddled inside it on the side of a gravel road, listening to all the night sounds and wondering when Bigfoot was going to come roaring out of the wilderness and carry her off to be his captive bride.

At dawn, she’d grabbed her paper map and hiked to Rockhaven. So now here she was, trudging along Main Street, approximately fourteen hours late arriving at Outlaw Ridge and about to miss her first day of work.

And therefore, probably fired.

The town was adorable, though. Quaint little shops around a town square with a duck pond, like something out of a movie. If she weren’t sweaty, smelly, stressed-out, and starving, she’d probably love it.

We need to call an Uber, Vixen grumbled. Or better yet, a limo. With mimosas.