Lance’s thoughts jumbled into a maelstrom. He’d eaten the steak and potatoes and left only a bite of bread on his plate. Eric had slithered out once the worker left. Lance stared down at his nearly empty plate, his stomach aching from forcing the food down.

It was as good a distraction as any.

A man like Eric was his father, begging for his son to take over the business, pretending that everything he did was actually for him.

Lance grimaced.

The man was delusional. He was backed into a corner like a wild animal, and now he was desperate.

There was another knock on the door, and Lance’s heart skipped. He tossed the plate onto the tray next to the nightstand, where it clattered against the silverware.

Lance opened the door, his thumb over the switch of the cane.

He relaxed. Derek was standing at the door, a toothpick popped in his mouth.

“Enjoy your meal?” Lance asked as he stepped aside.

Derek stepped in with a “hmph” and said, “As long as it’s been since I had a good meal, I almost did a backflip.” He sat on the bed.

Lance crossed his arms, the words spoken between him and Eric still resonating in his head. If only Derek knew his leader had been reduced to a teary-eyed wreck and that he was looking at that same leader’s son.

“Lance?” Derek called out to him.

Lance blinked, and he was staring at the floor.

“Everything okay?”

Lance stuttered to find the right words, tried to wring the conversation out of his mind. “Yeah, just… stomach troubles.”

Derek hummed. “You’ve really taken an initiative here,” he said. “Chief’s dead because of you, you came face-to-face with Caleb and took a punch from him, and you had to lead for a few days… All that, and now you have a broken leg.”

“What’s your point?”

“You’ve been through a lot, Lance. I wanted to come check on you. See how you were doing.”

Lance couldn’t keep eye contact. If Derek only knew the real reason for his discomfort.

“I’m doing alright,” Lance said. The words came out faster than they should have.

“Try again.”

Lance sighed. “I’m not the best… I’m sick of having to use this stupid thing.” He gestured at the cane holding him up. “And I never knew when I agreed to be a part of this that it would turn into being a fugitive.” He scratched the back of his neck.

“We’ll get through it,” Derek said. “Somehow.” He stiffened. Something was eating at him.

“What about you? Are you okay?” Lance asked.

Derek stared down at his feet for a long moment before he said, “Yeah, just… can’t stop thinking about Rob.”

The image still hadn’t left Lance’s mind—the flash of Rotoya’s smile and the bang of a gun. He couldn’t imagine what it was like for Derek.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, no,” Derek said. “I came here to check on you, not the other way around.”

“Trust me, I’ve had enough of talking about my issues for one night… I’d like to get my mind off of it for a while.”

Derek sighed and rubbed his hands together.

Wow, he really is nervous.

“I miss him, Lance.”

“I didn’t know him that well,” Lance said, sitting beside Derek. “Why don’t you tell me about him? How you guys met? How he came to work for you?”

Derek huffed. “He was homeless. Living out of his car. He came by my bar every now and then to get some food. Then he’d get drunk. He never bothered anybody, so I left him alone. Sometimes, I gave him a free drink. After a while, he opened up and told me his aunt and uncle kicked him out because they found out he was engaged to some guy.”

“What happened to his parents?”

“Car accident.”

“Oh, man.”

“He lived with his fiancé for a while. Turned out he was an abusive prick, so Rob left. His aunt and uncle wouldn’t let him back, so he ended up in his car.”

“How old was he?”

“About nineteen. He’s twenty-five now… He was.” Derek gulped. “I talked to Eric about it and offered him a job. Showed him the ropes, how to fight, how to get info. Next thing I knew, he was one of my top guys. Then one of my best friends. He always had my back.” He shook his head. “I guess I didn’t have his back, though. He was a fine man… and he’d be alive right now if I’d just been more careful.”

“Have you lost people before?”

“A few,” he said quickly. “More than I should have… It’s why I try not to make friends with my agents…” He hesitated, bit his lip, then looked Lance in the eye. “If you hadn’t killed Rotoya, I truly think she would’ve given him that same drug. To make him fight for her.”

Lance eyed the nightstand, where the bottle of champagne sat comfortably in a bucket of now-melted ice. He grabbed the bottle and handed it to Derek, who popped the top and drank.

Lance eyed the bottle himself. Its call was softer tonight. Easier to ignore.

“It’s not exactly the kind of alcohol you use in these situations,” Lance said with a nervous laugh, “but it’s something.”

Wearing a sad smile, Derek said, “May he be in heaven half an hour before the devil knows he’s dead.”

“May the devil never find out to begin with.”

Derek chuckled and took another long swig from the bottle. “Thanks, Lance.”

“Don’t mention it.” He refused the bottle when Derek offered it.

“Crap,” Derek said. “Sorry, I forgot about—”

“Don’t worry about it. Kaela forgot too.”

Lance took a deep breath. The citrus smell wafted to him, fogging his brain.

They sat in silence. Silence for Rob, who at the very least died fighting and wasn’t drugged by the chief.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Derek stood with a groan. “Thanks, Lance… You’re a good friend.” He made to walk out of the room.

“You see me as a friend?”

Derek turned back around, his hand on the knob. “With all we’ve been through together, hell, I almost see you as a brother.”

Lance wasn’t sure why, but a warmth filled his chest. “Thanks… I see you as a friend too.”

Derek nodded. “I’ll just take this with me.” He held up the champagne bottle.

“By all means.”

When the door clicked shut, Lance lay back in the bed and stared at the ceiling, shaking the thoughts of Eric as they crept up on him. The room was quiet, dim, and safe. Caleb was somewhere in the city, surely convinced that Lance was dead.

He frowned then sat up. Caleb thought he was dead. If he just left now, he could start over. Leave the city and wait a few weeks. Then he could return to his store and live the rest of his life in a mild comfort.

He looked at the window, and just like the alcohol, it called to him. The starry night sky stared down on him, and he nearly left the bed.

Lance gulped and lay back down, the thought floating around in his head. As with the alcohol, he resisted. If it were just Eric, he’d leave in a heartbeat. Derek and Kaela… He couldn’t leave them. They were both his friends. Even Kaela.

He touched the wolf’s head on the cane.

“Loyalty and perseverance.”

* * *

Lance’s store still smelled new. Even now, he had trouble imagining it as the same store he’d lived in for years. Snacks lined the shelves, and drinks filled the coolers. Kaela sauntered down the beer aisle.

It wasn’t like their previous hideout, but they had no better place to hide now than a business in the slums. The TV and bed in his room were a plus.

They’d all agreed—after a long talk in Kaela’s office—that Lance’s store was their best option. Staying at the Rose would put Kaela’s employees at too high a risk. So they piled into the truck, and George drove them into the slums. Malcolm remained at the Rose, in the basement with Amari. He’d complained that the equipment was enough but not ideal, to which Kaela promptly told him to deal with it.

They’d left at the brink of dawn, hidden in the cargo bed while George drove, relieved by the lack of a horrid smell. The rooftops had been easier to watch for shadows as the sun peeked out from the horizon.

Now here they were, in Lance’s store, the only light inside coming from the rising sun.

“Well,” George said when the silence grew stale, “I think I’ll be heading back to the Rose now. Maybe I can do something to help with this cure. Wouldn’t be good for a truck to stay parked outside the store, anyway.”

“Be careful,” Eric said.

George nodded and left, the back door closing behind him without so much as a squeak. Lance locked the door behind him, letting the silence settle once again.

Kaela sat on the floor and leaned against the cooler door, sipping a beer she’d snatched. She frowned at it as if it had insulted her, but she took another sip anyway. Derek stared at the floor in thought, and Eric peeked around the corner of the shelf at the entrance, his gaze unfaltering and focused, as if waiting for Caleb to appear like he had at the church.

Lance examined the knife inside the cane and stretched out his bad leg, just a little at a time, the pain coming in smaller waves.

“How long should we stay here?” Derek asked after a while.

“Until we get an update,” Eric responded.

“And then what?”

Eric sighed. “One thing at a time, Derek.” He raised an eyebrow. “Since when are you so antsy?”

Lance sheathed the knife and looked at Derek, who frowned at the floor. Eric was right, he hadn’t been this antsy at the bunker… but Rob had been alive then.

“I’m not antsy.”

“You once waited an entire hour, completely still, for a target to come out of a building so you could snipe them, and you can’t handle a few minutes inside of a store?” Eric asked, the smile finally appearing on his face.

Derek glared at him. “You know I don’t like it when you bring up those days… and besides, that was different. I was waiting to take a shot, but now I’m waiting to be shot.” He scratched his chin. “We have no idea how long this cure will take. Are we seriously going to hide the whole time?”

“We’re hiding for now,” Eric insisted. “We’re waiting to get updates on the cure. Unless you’d like to go to the Rose and be Malcolm’s lab assistant, the best thing you can do is wait. Enjoy the silence while you have it. With our luck, it won’t last long.”

Derek grimaced. “You’re right.”

A tense silence overtook the room until Kaela broke it. “God, I hate beer.” She slid the bottle away from herself. “But this beer is atrocious.”

Eric chuckled. “If only you had wine. You could test your record.”

Lance cocked his head to the side. “Record?”

Kaela smirked proudly as Eric spoke. “Kaela once drank a whole bottle of wine in under a minute.”

Lance raised an eyebrow. “Did you really?”

“It was a dare… Hangover was so worth it.”

The ghost of a smile appeared on Derek’s face, but his eyes were dark.

Lance spoke up. “I have a TV in the back. Why don’t you watch the news and see what’s going on in the city?”

“Not a half bad idea. I think I’ll do just that,” Derek said, standing back up.

A few seconds passed, and the TV turned on, the sound barely audible from where the rest of the group sat.

It was a mystery that Kaela and Eric weren’t connecting the dots with Derek’s behavior, unless Lance was just getting better at reading people.

After a moment of silence, Lance said, “Under a minute, huh?”

“Oh yeah,” Kaela said, her hands behind her head. “I need a nap.”

Lance looked at Eric and shook his head. “Kaela, I also have a bed back there, you know.”

Kaela stood up wordlessly and disappeared, leaving the beer bottle behind, nearly untouched.

Eric chuckled and slid next to the bottle, taking a large swig from it.

Lance thumbed the handle of the cane again while Eric gingerly sipped his beer and leaned against the cooler.

“I’m sorry about last night,” Eric said.

“Don’t talk to me.”

Eric shook his head. “I’m trying my best here, Lance.”

Lance tried to bite his tongue, but a string of anger lashed out, and he threw it at Eric. “How can you spy on me my whole life and still not know me at all?” He thought that would relieve his anger, but it didn’t. He kept going. “The entire time I was in that orphanage, I prayed for a family. Nobody came. Nobody cared. So I started praying for my own parents to come back… Guess I should’ve been more careful with what I wished for, huh?”

“We went over this,” Eric said. “I wasn’t ready. You were way better off in that orphanage than with me. The life I was living was not meant for a child. That’s why I was hoping you’d get adopted by a normal family and live a normal life.” He looked toward the back room again, staring for a few seconds before continuing. “But then you didn’t get picked up by a family. And the last thing I was going to do was let you live on the streets like I did. Hence why I helped you get your store. And here I am now, offering you my business. It’s all I have.”

Lance scoffed. “Did you ever consider quitting the life that wasn’t meant for a child, you greedy, selfish bastard?” Already, tears started welling in his eyes again, and he dug his nails into his palms. “And for the last time, I don’t care about inheriting your damn business.”

Eric leaned his head back then said, “Just tell me what you want me to do, Lance. What can I do to make it up to you?”

Lance crossed his arms and tried to keep his breathing steady. “You can start by dropping the subject entirely. After that… I don’t know yet.”

“I–” Eric was silent for a long moment. “Okay.”

* * *

The sun was setting, and rich orange rays of sunlight shone into the store. Soon, they would be cast into darkness, and the thought of that sent a chill down Lance’s spine.

An eerie silence fogged the streets, more so than usual. No gunfire, no shouting, no late-night drinkers, no crickets chirping, and no bugs buzzing. It was as if they had been cast into some other dimension, all alone. Completely isolated.

Lance absentmindedly reached for a bag of pretzels behind him and opened it, popping a couple into his mouth.

The TV switched off, and Derek emerged from the room, grabbing a snack of his own. Kaela came out soon after, stretching and rubbing her eyes. She grabbed a bag of candy and snacked on the colorful treats inside.

“Anything interesting on the news?” Lance asked Derek.

“Talks about the ‘fugitives’, mostly.”

A knock sounded on the back door.

Everyone froze.

Lance tossed the cane to Eric, who caught it without looking. Kaela had her knife at the ready, and Derek aimed his pistol.

Lance closed his eyes and listened for the sound of whispers within himself. The beast stirred and awoke but didn’t whisper to him. His stomach didn’t twist, as if the beast was waiting for confirmation of danger on the other side of the door.

Derek eased to the door then cracked it open. “Amari?”

Kaela relaxed, and Derek let Amari in, locking the door behind her.

“What are you doing here?” Kaela asked, wrapping Amari in a tight hug.

“Malcolm sent me. I’m the only one quiet enough to sneak around the city,” Amari said, releasing from the hug. “I think we’re on to something with this cure. At the very least, we’ve figured out how we might be able to combat this drug.” She stopped, as if gauging their reactions. “Malcolm said he’s been thinking about it wrong, or something like that. He had me write this letter to give to you.”

“You didn’t bring any wine, did you?”

Amari pouted. “Sorry, girl. I should’ve, huh?”

Kaela waved a hand at her. “Don’t worry about it. Just wishful thinking on my part.”

Amari giggled. “I should get going.”

“Already?”

“Malcolm needs me. Besides, I’m actually having a lot of fun working on this.”

“Okay… Hey, be careful. And make sure to leave out the back door, not the front.”

Amari nodded, and she slinked out, her steps silent. The back door clicked shut behind her, and Derek locked it again.

Kaela tore the envelope open and scanned the letter. “Oh…”

“What is it?” Eric asked.

Kaela offered the letter to Eric, who grabbed it and scanned the page. His jaw set, and his mouth formed a thin line.

He shook the envelope, and an empty vial fell out onto his hand. “Well, shit…”

Glass shattered.

A body flew through the air, past the aisle, and broke through the back door.

The beast’s hiss in the back of Lance’s head barely registered over Kaela’s shout.

“AMARI!”