Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 109245 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109245 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Jo nodded slowly. “Then that’s where we’ll start. If they hate each other, they won’t be together long after escaping.”
“What’s the orders, boss?” Ex asked.
“We divide and recover,” she said. “Blacks and Browns will take Scar. He’s dangerous, volatile, and most likely to put up resistance. Start in Chicago. Track the South Side Kings. If anyone interferes, you have full autonomy to handle it.”
“Define handle it,” Meridian said.
“We all know what gangs like that are capable of. Handle it however you see fit.”
Meridian’s grin was slight and dark. He liked the sound of that.
Jo turned to the Greens. “Valor, Zorion, you go after Gage. Check his parents’ last known address first, then his buddy Roz. If anyone knows where Gage is headed, it’ll be him. Bring them in alive and unharmed…that’s nonnegotiable.”
Everyone nodded.
Jo glanced at the digital clock on the wall. “The Whites have a pretty decent head start on us. But I don’t want to underestimate them again, so get your strategies aligned. You’re wheels up in forty-eight.”
She closed the holograph projection with a swipe of her hand, making Scar and Gage’s faces dissolve into darkness.
The meeting adjourned, but Meridan remained seated, thinking, plotting.
Ex turned toward him. “Chicago gangs, huh? This is a first.”
He and Ex had fought against leaders of organizations who used genocide to dominate countries, religious zealots who strapped bombs to their chests, arms conglomerates, and terrorists with funds vast enough to start civil wars.
City gangs were a fuckin’ insult to them.
“The goddamn South Side Kings,” Ex sighed. “Is this what we’ve been reduced to, Mere? Going after a group of idiots who entertain themselves by shooting into people’s houses, knocking over mom-and-pop stores, or swiping old ladies’ purses.”
Meridian stood and pulled out one of his smokes now that Jo was gone.
“If these dumbasses like senseless violence so much…” He shrugged. “I say let’s give it to ’em.”
White Ravens
Gage
Gage sat on an overturned bucket with his elbows on his knees and eyes closed. The knocking of a loose panel and the rush of wind across the tin roof were his only company.
The serum in his blood was a poison that wouldn’t let him rest. He could feel his surroundings vibrating and humming in his bones.
He’d waited a long time for Scar to come back, but he’d known the second he heard the footsteps fade, he wasn’t turning around…not for him.
Still, a stupid part of him had hoped.
Selfish prick.
He let out a hoarse laugh. “I’m going to punch you right in the face if I ever see you again.”
He wasn’t a violent man. His hostility could be stemming from how cold, thirsty, and hungry he was, so much so that he no longer knew what time it was.
The darkness behind his eyes hadn’t changed since the sun went down. He felt around the entire barn and outside for a water hose, sink, spigot, anything, but he’d found nothing.
He’d never felt as defeated and helpless as he did right then.
His father’s voice echoed in the back of his mind.
“You pray when there’s nowhere left to go, son, and the Lord will lead you where you need to be.”
He bowed his head and whispered until his lips went numb. For once, he wasn’t praying for forgiveness. He was praying for hope.
When the call to Roz had finally gone through, his chest ached so badly he thought it might cave in.
His friend hadn’t asked for proof of life or whether he was now an informant trying to set him up. He just promised he’d be on the next flight to North Carolina, and that they’d figure the rest out on the drive home.
After the call had ended, he’d begun to pace.
He’d walked the length of the barn a hundred times, mapping every squeak of wood and protruding nail with his steps.
He’d found a set of coveralls hanging from a peg and a long utility coat that smelled like hay and diesel. They scratched his skin raw, but at least now he didn’t look like he’d escaped an asylum. He pulled the coat tight and buried his face in the collar.
He was trying to figure out how he was going to find the main road into town where Roz could find him, when he heard it—
Someone was coming in fast, a dirt bike, tractor, or maybe an off-road vehicle. It was too soon for Roz, too loud for a car.
The hairs on his arms rose.
Instinctively, he grabbed a long-handled garden claw he would double as a spear if he had to.
He hurried to the front of the barn, pressed his ear to the cold wood, and listened.
He pushed the door open and stepped out into what felt like early dawn, the cold biting at his lungs. The air smelled like frost, crisp and cleaner than the barn.
The engine growled as it got closer.