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“I don’t know if it’s the city, or shit going on in my mind. I tend to have a vivid imagination,” I tell her mostly the truth. Nobody knows me, the real me, and I like to keep it that way. Even if Sarah is a good friend, someone who I could probably talk to, I don’t want her to see the broken parts of me.
“I stand by what I said,” she tells me. “Ask for a few days off. Take a fortnight and head up to the Lake District.” I’ve always wanted to go out there, it looks beautiful. Perhaps I can play tourist for a little while.
“I’ll think about it,” I tell her finally, and as busy as the rest of the day is, I’m still on edge. By the time I get home and see the note waiting for me where I left it this morning, I know whatever is coming won’t be good.
CHAPTER FIVE
FALCON
Once I’m alone, I scour the internet, the deep dark fucking web. There are sites on here which would make the most violent killer squirm. I’ve seen it all before. My past is nothing more than a memory at this point, but each time I close my eyes, there’s only blood I see.
Crow and Hawk have suffered as much as I have. We’ve banded together, like brothers, closer than any family I’ve ever known. While scrolling through the websites, my office door opens, and I glance up to see Hawk saunter in with a plate of food and the scent is like heaven and sex all rolled into one.
“Made you dinner,” he says in his usual controlled, stoic tone.
“Thanks, man.” It smells incredible. I don’t ask where Crow is because I know he’s probably hiding out in his bedroom. Since I first met him, I’ve come to learn he is a loner. He has us around, but he enjoys the quiet, which I understand. But there are times it gets too much. There are moments where I need companionship.
“Crow’s stressed.”
I look at one of my best friends and grin. “He’s always fucking stressed,” I tell Hawk as I stab the pasta with a fork and shove it into my mouth. “I’ll find the psycho stalking her,” I say as I click on the next website, scrolling for the name he used on the message board. But before I can, a ping sounds on my tracking app.
Hawk is on his feet. He knows the sound. He knows exactly what it means. “What’s that?” He rounds the desk, stopping behind me as he leans in to look at the screen from over my shoulder.
When I open the page, I take note of the green dot flashing on the map. “She’s on the move.” The phone rings, and usually I’d enjoy the sound of the song alerting me to a call, but this time, I’m anxious. “What?”
“Do you think she’s running?” he asks me. One of the only men I trust other than my Fallen brothers is Dante Savage. We met when I was working in the underground hacking community. We stumbled on each other’s code, and when we came face to face, something clicked.
The guy is as fucking broken as we are, but when he told me his story, I felt sick to my stomach learning about what he and his brother Drake had been through. Since then, we’ve been in contact, and when he needs something, I’m happy to help and vice versa. It’s good to keep connections, especially in the world we live in. He hasn’t steered me wrong yet.
“She’s not heading into work. And we know she doesn’t have friends she hangs out with. We need to know where she’s going. Follow her,” I tell him. “I’m tracking her cell phone, but I haven’t noticed anything out of the ordinary all morning.” With my focus on the call log, I click onto the refreshed page and my chest tightens. There has been one number calling incessantly for the past hour. It didn’t refresh because I’ve been working on something else. Now I’m staring at the screen, my gut churns.
“You see it. Don’t you?” Dante asks, and I nod to myself.
I throw out the only word which expresses how I feel. “Fuck.”
“Yeah. I’m on it.” He hangs up before I can respond.
“We need Crow—”
“What the fuck is going on?” The man in question stalks into the office, his face a picture of anger and frustration. I don’t blame him. I’m also fucking rage-filled. I should have anticipated she’s clever.
“She’s running, or something. She’s been getting calls from a number with an American code for the past hour. The call log shows it rings every minute.”
“I don’t like this,” Crow grits through clenched teeth. His jaw ticks, his hands fist at their sides when he nears the desk. “We need to get out there.”
