"He hadn’t had a proper meal in several days. He would go without for as long as it took. He had snatched sleep in fifteen minute bursts for more than a month. Regular sleep was a luxury he couldn’t afford.
He had left his children and blended in New York, hoping he could melt in the teeming pot. They had found him.
He was in the Catskills now, had been here for a week, six hundred thousand acres of vastness rendering him insignificant.
Forcing his way through the dense undergrowth, he looked at his phone yet again, for that elusive all clear message. When he looked up, two shadows detached themselves from the thick gloom and he knew.
He would not see another day again."
Started writing the sequel to The Warrior this week, tentatively titled The Brotherhood