Page 75 of Revenge Saints

“Knox.” Max says my name carefully. Like he knows what I’m thinking.

I keep walking. Eyes ahead. If he looks at me too long, he’ll see it. He’ll know what I plan to do the second we get to her.

“Did she leave a note or anything?” Dante asks.

I shake my head. “No.”

Max chuckles dryly. “She knocked me out and tied me to the table legs.” Humor lacing his face, but there wasn’t any when we found him, cold and passed out on the floor. Took forever to wake him. Ryker was beyond pissed. So was I. Hell, even Max, once the haze cleared.

We found the radio. Ran like hell. No idea how far she’d gotten.

And for a second, I didn’t think we’d make it. I thought we’d lose her… again.

Then Dante’s crackled through the static, and we had a choice to make.

Aspen or Dante.

Ryker, he’s Recon. The ghost in the trees. Our best shot at tracking her down before she completelytorchedthe plan.

So we split.

Now we’ve got Dante back.

Next,

She’s going to look me in the eyes again.

And this time, she’s not going to like what she sees.

The sun is rising now, bleeding gold over a ruined world. We’ve been walking for hours. Legs burning. Mouths dry. Hunger twisting in our guts. But we keep moving, always fucking moving.

The town finally comes into view. What’s left of it.

Nature reclaimed everything. Grass crawls over cracked pavement. Bushes claw up buildings. Trees split the sidewalks like they’re taking revenge. Cars swallowed whole by vines. Ghost town doesn’t even cover it; this place isdead.

Worse than the last town. And I already hated that one, probably where Roman ran into Ethan. Probably where all that detouring started. I should’ve seen it coming. Should’ve asked more questions. But I didn’t want to see what that piece of shit was planning.

Now it’s too late. All I can do is keep us breathing.

We’re low on bullets. If we run into civilians, we’ll scare ‘em off, rifles pointed, no hesitation.

We move through the empty streets, slow and steady. Then I see it, the bar we used to hit. Or what’s left of it.

Windows shattered. Branches hanging through the broken door. Mold on the walls. Faded red letters spray-painted across the brick:

NO ONE IS SAFE. BEWARE.

No shit.

I remember when this place was alive. Schools, shops, and bars stacked around military contracts. The two bases nearby made this a party town for soldiers. We didn’t serve here, but once the Bloodhawks were born, we came for supplies, maybe a drink or ten. Now it’s all rot and dust.

“Like the good old days,” Max mutters, kicking the door open.

We step inside. Empty. No bottles. Just glass, blood, and the thick stench of death.

“Even the smell brings back memories,” Dante jokes, trying to lighten it.

“We need to find somewhere else. This place reeks,” I snap, rubbing the bridge of my nose. My patience is short.