What do you think?
Rate this book


182 pages, ebook
First published December 11, 2013





By the second day, Stiles had that crawling, hunch your shoulders and get ready to run feeling that always preceded another shit show. He hadn’t heard from the pack in more than a week. Derek insisted on weekly check ins — either someone called Stiles or he was supposed to call Derek to prove he was still alive. It went both ways: Stiles couldn’t settle if he was worrying about the pack. And now all he could do was worry about them and Derek in particular and, damn it, he should have taken his chances and said something to Derek before leaving, what if it was too late…?
“You’re back,” she said eventually.
“I’ve got water,” Derek told her.
“This is Alex.”
“Alex Komorovski.”
“Angela Bailey. This is Billy.”
Billy peaked at Alex briefly then hid his face against his mother again.
They both looked at Derek. Derek handed Angela a bottle of water and didn’t offer his name.
Angela alternated drinking and giving sips to Billy. Alex winced when he saw Danny’s covered body and said nothing. He sipped slowly at the bottle of water Derek handed him and squinted westward. ”Any ideas?” he asked eventually.
“Walk,” Derek replied. A ragged line of people already had the same idea. Some were headed west down the side of the highway, though a few were marching back, maybe figuring they were closer to a town in that direction.
Alex nodded.
“My grand dad has a house in Afton,” Angela said unexpectedly. ”We should go there.”
Derek shrugged and finished his own water. ”I’ve got to get back to L.A.” He glanced down at Angela and Billy, then caught Alex’s gaze. ”keep the water.”
A river of weekend gamblers were pouring back to the LA basin – Derek’s bail jumper had been one of them, now in the hands of the Las Vegas PD – and Derek let his foot press down the gas a little more, half intending to pass the mini-convoy of semis ahead of him. The SUV coughed and died instead; not just the engine but the electronics as well. Swift reflexes and strength let Derek wrestle the steering wheel right, hard enough to bounce off the Interstate and maintain control as it bounded onto the shoulder at eighty-five miles an hour. The SUV pin-balled and smashed sideways between two other vehicles in a horrendous screech of metal on metal and dust rose in a choking cloud around it.




You grabbed my hand and we fell into it,I need some fluff.
like a day dream or a fever.
The Dead Flag Blues, God Bless You! Black Emperor