Page 45 of Hunted

I polished off the rest of my brisket sandwich. It was maybe the best thing I’d ever eaten. Dallas really could cook. I started in on the cup of potato salad, still ravenous. “I just meant—”

“I know what you meant.” He frowned, considering his next words. He and Dallas exchanged a look. Dallas shook his head. I growled in frustration, hating not being able to hear what people were thinking about me for the first time in over a decade.

Ethan had always been hyper protective of August. They’d been adopted by our family from foster care when Ethan had been eight and August five after their parents were killed by vampires. From what Mom had told me in private when I was older, August had gotten lucky during the three years they’d spent in the care of the state before they’d come to live with us and had been in good placements where the families had been kind to him. Ethan… not so much. It had taken years before he’d stopped wolfing out and attacking at the smallest provocation, convinced we were all out to harm him or August.

“Lacey sent cookies, too.” Dallas reached into the bag, passing out waxed paper wrapped sugar cookies. They were cut in the shape of Texas and frosted with a pair of bluebonnets, the state flower.

“You ever notice how we’re the only state that makes a big deal out of having Texas-shaped everything?” I took a bite out of the Panhandle. “That’s how you sell something in this state, or else you slap the Texas flag on it. Mom has two Texas-shaped waffle irons.”

“Y’all got me a Texas-shaped cutting board for Christmas,” Dallas mumbled through a mouthful of cookie.

“Yeah, and do you ever hear about Colorado or Wyoming shaped cutting boards? That would be a no.”

“Aren’t most cutting boards Colorado shaped?” Ethan asked dryly.

“Touché.” Dallas saluted him with a second cookie. “They put something in the water here, probably some sort of secret formulation made of powdered bluebonnets and Bevo’s DNA that causes ride or die loyalty for the Longhorns. And God help anyone who dares say the word Oklahoma the week of the Red River Shootout without spitting afterward.”

“They don’t have truck commercials in Delaware custom designed just for the state of Delaware.” I finished my cookie, feeling better for the first time since I’d woken up in the hospital. “But hell yeah, mentioning a truck is Texas tough is a selling point.”

“Don’t say that to Brody. Major howls every time one of those commercials comes on because Brody sings along so loud the windows rattle.”

Our brother had made the All-State choir as a tenor four years in a row, although he mostly now stuck to trouncing us at karaoke night and wooing his wife when they sang musicals together on long drives.

Dallas’s phone buzzed. “August is back in his room. They’re letting us in one at a time. I need to get back to town to check back in at The Spoke. Is it okay if I see him first?”

“Yeah. Course. Do what you need to do.” When Dallas grabbed the trash from our lunch and turned to go, I said, “Dally?”

He paused at the door, Ethan already out in the hallway.

Fuck, why was this so hard? “Thanks for, you know, everything. For coming down even though you have a baby at home and a restaurant to run. This was really great.”

Dallas nodded. “Hang in there, Riv. We’ll get through this. Text me later. Let me know how you’re doing and when they think you’ll be getting out of here.”

“Yeah, okay. Thanks, man.”

I pulled out my phone, scrolling to the group chat while I waited for my turn to see August. I squinted down at the screen, trying to decipher West’s latest text.

River: If you’re going to write your husband love poetry in Elvish, could you please not do it in the group chat? There are some things about the ways fae can bend that I really did not need to know.

West: Just for that, I’m naming an orc after you.

Topher: That’s low, dude. You feeling okay, Riv?

River: Getting there. Did Fallon get anything from the fang-head?

Topher: She and Cris moved him to a safehouse. She texted a little while ago. Said she’s still working on him and she’ll text you with an update when she has something.

West: Have you seen August?

River: They’re just now allowing visitors. I’m up next.

Closing down the group chat, I sent a text to Vlad.

River: Tristen Davies. He’s a shifter in the UK. We believe he’s Rossi’s sire. Can you obtain a blood sample?

Vlad: The blood wards held tonight.

River: We can’t take any chances. As soon as Rossi finds out how we’re warding the research facilities and covens against him, he’ll find a way to bypass it. There will be more bombings and mass casualties. We have to stay one step ahead of him.