Page 40 of Bite Back

DELILAH

A small dot blips across the glowing screen in Asher’s hands. Luka.

We’ve waited through the entire poker night, moving from the rooftop to a nearby dinner.

Mugs of coffee litter the table in front of us, and jitters run through my veins.

Now, watching the attendees filter out, it’s finally time.

He’s finally on the move, one of the last to leave. I bounce on the balls of my toes.

Asher’s gaze traces the screen’s sprawling map of the city. “He’s heading north.”

I paw through my wallet and throw some bills on the table. That should cover us.

We take off at a jog for the subway station, the door to the diner swinging wildly behind us. But I find myself speeding up. I want to catch up. I want to catch him. Our footfalls thunder down the concrete steps, and we dodge the passengers streaming by.

I reach the turnstile first, fumbling for my phone to pay and butting my hips through the turnstile. Asher follows me. His breath comes out in measured pants.

He glances up at the glowing sign. “We’ve got two minutes.”

We walk briskly to the platform. The train’s still not there yet. I check the board above the platform. A concert must have just ended because the platform’s packed, crowded by people laughing and chattering, bright wristbands still affixed to their arms.

One minute.

Asher pulls out the tracker. “Still heading north.” A sigh escapes my lips.

A distant rumble signals the coming train. The rumble builds until the train squeals to a halt, bright lights bouncing off the white tiles. The doors hiss open, and we elbow our way on board.

The concertgoers jostle us as they board, but we maintain a position near the door, arms clutching the handholds.

This is it.

The doors slide shut, and the train lurches forward.

I try to slow my breathing. My gaze slides to Asher. He’s in his element. One hand hooks casually through his belt loop and toys with the stake I know is concealed beneath his jacket. His other hand reaches out and checks that his bun is secure.

He’s ready. Like me.

The train pulls into the next stop, and he slides the device out again.

Still heading north.

Good.

Someone elbows me in the side, and I wince at the brief flash of pain.

Another stop.

Asher pulls out the device again. His jaw clenches. He flashes me the screen.

No signal.

A pit builds in my gut. Is it just that we’re underground? Or did something happen to the tracker? Are we headed into another trap?

My body sways as the train moves forward. Luka was a couple of stops ahead of us anyway. Hopefully, it will work at the next station.

Grungy white tiles zoom together out the window. I hold my breath as we approach the light of the next station.

As we pull in, the look on Asher’s face tells me everything. Still no signal. Which leaves us one more stop.

My chest grows tight as we approach. Still no signal.

Fuck. I clutch whatever shred of hope I have left. But the knot in my chest pulls tighter and tighter.

Maybe we exit the subway and the tracker works.

Maybe.

But as we spill out onto the street, there’s still no signal.

No sign of Luka.

And no hope.

A scream curls from my throat.