His Mafia Prince
Chapter 101: Im The Arrogant Little Bastard, Remember?

Chapter 101: Im The Arrogant Little Bastard, Remember?

(MILES)

Pine branches whip my face as I hurdle through them and away from the cabin. I hear Arlo fast behind me as he hurries, breathing hard and muttering swearing words. I doubt if Dalton followed us. I don’t think he was able to. I’m not sure if he crawled up the stairs to throw us off either, or if he just couldn’t walk. We have to put as much distance as we can between us in case he can walk.

I have no idea where we are. That means I don’t even have an idea where to run to. If I were familiar with the area, I could find a road that would lead us down the mountain. For now, my instincts tell me to run deeper into the woods. If Arlo feels indifferent, he is welcome to stay back and die.

We keep running for what feels like an hour. I feel exhausted and I stop to sit at the base of a tall pine tree. My breathing is heavy and I’m in a haze. My lungs burn. I can feel the trunk against my spine as it sways in the breeze. I shut my eyes closed. Even though I fear for my life, I can’t escape the serenity and quietness around the mountains. I hear nothing except for the sound of trees and birds. Arlo sits across from me and grunts. I open my eyes and stare at his bloody hard. He was able to keep up with me. So that tells me that it’s probably just flesh. He would have stopped running ages ago had he lost a lot of blood. Adrenaline would have only carried him so far.

He breathes hard as he meets my gaze. "How come Dalton isn’t dead?"

"Nothing went as I hoped," I say, avoiding his gaze. The fact that I failed to kill Dalton frustrates me. Part of the reason why I didn’t kill Dalton was because he bumped into me.

He threw my aim. Because of that, Dalton is still very much alive and a threat to us now. If I accuse Arlo of being the reason why Dalton didn’t die, he will sure get pissy and I don’t want to deal with that now.

He studies me for a few generous seconds. "that fucker shot the tip of my finger off."

"How much of it is gone?" I ask curiously.

Gritting his teeth, he holds out his hand.

"I can’t really see." I squint. "You’re too far away."

He crawls over and settles beside me. His hip presses to mine. The sight of his bloody finger makes me scowl. "It’s just the tip...and part of the fingernail."

I examine the finger. "It might grow back."

He scowls. "it might grow back? What am I, a lizard?"

"I saw from a recent study that scientists did a while ago. As long as there is still nail, the finger top can grow back. Something to do with the stem cells."

He laughs gruffly. His teeth are white against the splattered blood on his face. "It’s actually shocking that you know that kind of thing."

"Why?" I ask as I get to my feet. Being close to him is already distracting enough. I need to stop thinking of how warm his body is and be alert. I need to stop thinking about how sweet his scent is.

He shrugs and gets up too. "I don’t know."

"You probably think that I’m just some dumb thug." I huff.

"Maybe." He smirks. "I mean...if the shoe fits."

"Ha ha..." I mutter sarcastically. "Very funny. If the show is over we can keep moving."

"Alright." He says, tugging a tissue paper from his pocket and wrapping it on his injured finger. "I think it’s bleeding, but slowly."

"Great. We can’t leave a bloody trail for your psychotic cousin to follow." I shove into the thick underbrush and the conversation stops. It’s good that way. I need to think. I’m not sure what to do next because I’m not familiar with the area. I’m a city boy, and I’m out of depth.

We walk for a stretch. We must get as far away from Dalton and the cabin as possible. I’m thirsty and starving. There is little hope of fixing either of those problems now

How Arlo keeps up with me however is surprising. I expected him to complain of hunger and thirst, but he doesn’t. I expected him to be high maintenance, but so far, he is rolling with the situation as it is. I’m forced to feel a grudging respect for him.

Hours later, we come to a small cabin. There is no smoke coming up from the chimney and there is no sign of cars around. The cabin is unkempt. No flowers on the window, no home sweet home signs. It is just there.

Arlo stands beside me and peers into the cabin. "The house looks deserted." He says.

"Sure," I say, "but looks can be deceiving." I’m not sure if stopping here is a good idea. I don’t know the proximity of this cabin to the one we just left. We might have been going in circles for all I know.

"Maybe we should check it out." He says.

"Should we though?" I ask as I meet his hopeful gaze.

"Thirst is killing me." He winces. "Maybe we should go in and see if there’s some water at least, or maybe a first aid kit. I need to clean and wrap my wounded finger."

"Still," I murmur. "We need to watch out a bit more. We need to make sure that nobody is living around here."

He looks over at the sin sinking behind the mountains. "It’s getting cold."

"I know. We just need to watch out more." I too shiver as I glance at the cabin longingly. "where exactly are we?"

"How would I know that?" he scowls.

"I don’t mean the exact location we are at. I mean...we are still around the city. Or did you take me out of state?"

"What business did I have taking you out of state? I wanted Sasha to find you, remember? Taking you out of state would have made it much harder for Sasha to find you."

I meet his gaze and notice the hate still shimmering in them. I need to remember that we aren’t friends or allies. We are only working together for now because we don’t want to die. Arlo is merely bidding his time. He might soon decide he doesn’t need me and turn his back on me.

"If it weren’t for you and your half-baked revenge plan, I would have been home in my warm bed now," I mumble.

"Yeah, and if it weren’t for my psychotic cousin, you and Sasha would be dead."

I smirk. "So you’re assuming I wouldn’t have escaped? If I got the drop on Dalton, I would have got it on you."

He purses. "I doubt it."

"Of course you do. You’re an arrogant little bastard."

He bites his jaw. "I’m going inside to check. You’re welcome to stay out and freeze your ass off if you want." He shoots me a surly look and gets out of the cover of the underbrush.

I grit my teeth and stay where I am. He is so reckless. For starters, we have no idea if somebody lives in that cabin. I’m not taking my chances to rush into things that I don’t know. But if he is too willing to be the sacrificial lamb, then so be it, I’ll just wait here and see what happens.

He creeps around the house and peers through its grimy windows. Eventually, he circles to the back door of the cabin. I watch him warily as he tries the door. He tucks his arm up to the sleeve of the cashmere sweater he has on and smashes the glass on the door with the covered fist. He listens and waits. I do the same. When the alarm doesn’t sound, he slowly opens the door and lets himself in.

After long generous minutes I begin to grow wary of why he hasn’t given me the all-clear. I didn’t hear any noises that might suggest he’s been mauled. What the hell is going on with him? I scowl and crawl out of the trees too then cautiously cross to the side of the cabin to the back door. I step inside and listen. I hear a crunching sound coming from the kitchen.

My heart beats out of my chest as I creep slowly into the doorway to find Arlo sitting on a chair with his feet on top of a big rounded oak table. His injured hand is fully bandaged and he is chowing on a box of cereal.

"What the fuck?" I snap.

He glances at me with a bored expression. "What?"

"Why didn’t you tell me it was safe?"

He shrugs. "I’m an arrogant little bastard, remember?"