“I don’t understand—this freelancer that’s with him now is yours, didn’t you say?”
“She’s…off-roading. Not really doing the story anymore.”
“Huh.” I’m thinking maybe this guy could use a few sessions with Valerie on leadership.
“I’m assuming you have people up there. Probably a helicopter at your disposal, but it’s a lot of tundra. We could deliver the coordinates.”
It’s strange but creative. I don’t have to think about it long. One of the top things that distinguishes a successful leader is quick decision making, according to Valerie. That’s one of the few things I don’t have trouble with. I need that location.
“Put your guy on a plane to Duluth. If he’s cool, we’re cool.”
I put down the phone. When one door closes, another opens.
We’ll gun down Savage Adonis. See whether we can deal with this embedded reporter. My guys have a sense of people. They’ll suss out whether we can play ball with this Garrick. If we can’t, we’ll kill him, too.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Kiro
Isuck inthe night air, palms flat against the cool dirt, feeling the wilderness come alive around me.
I should be happy, but everything hurts.
My shoulder wound throbs. My muscles ache. Ann said that might happen—that it’s the drugs working through my system.
But none of that compares to the pain of Ann betraying me over and over. Just a reporter, out for my story.
I heard the phone sounds—more pictures? I squeeze my eyes shut, remembering how it felt to be trapped outside that hospital with those reporters taking their photos, hounding me while I could barely stand. Shouting their questions, reminding me that I’m different. Wrong.
I’m a story and a savage to Ann, too.
The knife of it twists in my heart because for a moment there, back when we worked to move the branches, I felt like we were really together.
Well, I’m nearly home now. My pack is out there somewhere. That’s my family.
I breathe in the scent of the soil. Wet leaves under dry. A nearby stream. This area was on the edge of where I used to roam. I recognize the types of trees. The air. The look of the rocks.
This wilderness area has lots of official entrances across northern Minnesota and Canada. This is not one of those official entrances. We probably won’t see any people from here on in.
I brush the dirt from my hands and wipe my eyes on my sleeve. I don’t want her to see my tears.
More phone sounds. Pain rages through me.
She wants to learn about the savage. Well, she’ll have her savage.
People love to hold their phones, love to look at them when they’re upset. I hate the phones, and I hate Ann’s most of all. I would love to take her phone and smash it, but I won’t.
Yet.
I’ll wait until we’re deep in. I need her to go with me voluntarily.
It’s one hundred fifty miles back to where my pack is. I can make thirty miles a day by canoe and foot. Carrying her, while she struggles? More like fifteen miles a day.
I try not to think about her struggling. I don’t want her distressed and I don’t want her to struggle, but even if she struggles, I’ll take her with me.
I have to take her with me. I get this crushing feeling in my chest when I imagine letting her go.
She climbs down from the truck. She smiles, and my heart swells in spite of everything.