Page 152 of Exiled Heir

“We made it,” he said.

“Yeah, when I plan escapes, they don’t end up in a mage prison cell.” I started stumbling down the road vaguely in the direction of the town I remembered seeing en route to House Bartlett. “I take five stars and up on the Yelp review.”

“As I recall, your escapes end up with you in the back of a cheap bar, drugged up and chained to the floor.” As we walked, Cade got steadier on his feet but didn’t pull away from me.

“Well, this is definitely an improvement on that. We probably have a good hour before they manage to track us. That’s more than enough time to find a ride,” I said.

“You mean steal a ride,” Cade said, but the corner of his lip pulled up.

“I sense a lot of judgment from a man who is half-naked, walking on the side of the road.” Up ahead, lights came into view. The town I remembered was closer than I expected. “Looking the way you do, it’s either the start or the end of a horror movie.”

“Not a cheap porno?” Cade asked.

“Not until a trucker pulls up and asks us where we’re headed,” I said.

The town was silent in the middle of the night, houses dark, no bars to keep people up past nine. We needed clothes first, then transportation, then money. A small thrift shop at the edge of town provided the clothes, and Cade did a semi-ironic slow clap when I broke into a repair shop, stealing the keys for one of the cars parked in the front.

“Won’t someone need that?” He eyed the classic Chevy truck, buffed and shined to perfection.

“This is someone’s hobby car. No one is driving this thing to work. We’ll dump it in front of a police station.” I raised both eyebrows. “Happy?”

“Now what?” Cade asked.

I looked west, the direction as ingrained in me as breathing. “Now we go to Los Santos. I think we both need to have a chat with my ex-boss.”

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