Free Web NovelChapter 131: Chapter 131 - Farewell to the Route
Breakfast had already ended, and the plates had been cleared, but no one had moved from the table. Coffee lingered in their cups, and the air inside the restaurant was thick with sugar, butter, and cigarette smoke.
Then dessert appeared.
A whole cake was set at the center of the table, its frosting uneven but generous, dark glaze pooling along the edges. A tray of syrup-soaked pastries followed, and smaller plates were placed in front of them without comment.
"For people who are leaving in an hour," Iyisha said quietly, eyeing the cake, "this feels generous."
Pauline exhaled a slow stream of smoke toward the ceiling. "The Route doesn’t send guests off hungry."
Pauline’s gaze shifted to Malcolm.
"And this is for Malcolm." She said winking. "If you stayed," she added, almost casually, "the girls would’ve loved you."
Iyisha turned before she could stop herself.
Malcolm didn’t look up, and instead cut himself a slice.
Cyborg laughed under his breath. "Why, Pauline. Sounds like you’re unimpressed with the rest of us."
Pauline’s mouth curved slightly. "Maybe," she replied playfully, tapping ash into the tray without breaking her stare.
Marco picked up the knife and began cutting even portions, his movements smooth and deliberate. "It’s a shame you won’t stay longer," he said, passing plates down the table. "The Route rewards those who commit."
Iyisha accepted her plate, and after a brief hesitation, took a bite.
It was rich and sweet and far too good for a farewell.
Waldo inclined his head politely. "We’re grateful for your hospitality."
His hand rested at Lauren’s back, while Lauren’s palm remained over her stomach, protective without thinking.
Cyborg leaned back in his chair. "The Route will welcome any of you," he said lightly. "Should anyone of you choose to stay."
Iyisha looked at him sharply. "And be enslaved?" she asked, heat slipping into her voice before she could stop it.
The word landed harder than she meant it to.
For a split second, the table stilled.
Then Cyborg laughed as if she had said something genuinely amusing. "Enslaved?" he repeated. "You wound me. Contracted sounds better."
Pauline lifted a brow slowly, studying Iyisha with open interest.
"Sweetheart," Pauline said, tapping ash neatly into the tray, "my girls are here on their own accord."
Her gaze shifted deliberately toward Malcolm. "Not everyone has someone big and strong enough to protect them out there."
Iyisha rolled her eyes, more at the implication than the words, and took a forkful of cake from the plate Malcolm had placed in front of her earlier.
Brix suddenly lifted his hand.
Everyone looked at him.
"I want to stay," he said, glancing at Cyborg. "Here."
Cyborg’s grin widened immediately. "Good choice, my man."
Iyisha turned to Marybeth instinctively, expecting surprise.
Marybeth only shrugged and took another sip of coffee.
"Are you sure?" Iyisha asked Brix anyway.
He nodded once. "I don’t know what my next plan is," he admitted. "And wandering outside alone again sounds worse than committing to something."
Iyisha studied him for a moment. She understood that. The road was brutal for people without direction.
"It’s dangerous out here," she said quietly.
Brix gave a small smile. "It’s dangerous everywhere."
Marco’s expression brightened slightly. "That’s good news," he said smoothly. "You can join the screening group. Phillip hasn’t stopped complaining since Iyisha left."
Cyborg snorted. "He has not."
Brix laughed once. "Guess I’ll keep them company."
They spoke a little longer after that.
Finally, Cyborg checked the time on his watch.
He pushed his chair back and stood.
"It’s time," he said, grinning like this was simply another routine departure.
And just like that, the moment shifted.
Chairs scraped. Plates were abandoned half-finished. The moment had passed.
Pauline stubbed out her cigarette and stood without ceremony. Marco gave them a final nod before both turned back toward the interior of the restaurant, already returning to their domains as if departures were routine.
Outside, the air felt brighter.
Brix followed them out.
Two vehicles were already idling near the main road.
The Land Cruiser sat where they had left it, reinforced frame catching the light. Beside it, Waldo’s older vehicle waited, dusty and practical.
Waldo let out a low whistle when he saw the Cruiser up close.
"Damn," he muttered, circling it slowly. "You weren’t exaggerating."
Iyisha smiled despite herself.
Then she heard it.
Engines.
Three more vehicles rolled forward from deeper inside the Route. A pickup truck with reinforced sides, and two dark SUVs falling into position behind them.
Cyborg stepped toward the lead pickup, then paused and glanced back.
"We’ll accompany you to the border," he said. "After that, you’re on your own."
Iyisha nodded once.
The formation took shape naturally.
Lead pickup truck.
Their Land Cruiser.
Waldo’s vehicle behind them.
Two Route cars trailing.
Brix stood near, hands in his pockets.
"You sure?" Iyisha asked him one last time through the open window.
He nodded. "I’ll be fine."
Marybeth didn’t say much. She simply gave him a look that meant more than words.
Cyborg suddenly opened the passenger door of the Land Cruiser and slid in, grinning.
"Figured I’d ride with you for a bit," he said. "Make sure you don’t scratch the new paint."
Malcolm didn’t respond. He adjusted the mirror instead.
Engines revved.
The main gate of the Route opened slowly, heavy metal pulling aside with a mechanical groan.
Brix remained where he stood and the convoy rolled forward.
They had cleared the outer roads and merged onto the highway before Cyborg leaned forward from the back, one arm hooked over the headrest, voice carrying easily over the hum of the engine.
"So," he started casually, "where did you two even meet?"
Iyisha glanced at him through the rearview mirror. "You’re very curious about Malcolm," she said dryly. "You sure you’re not in a relationship with him?"
Cyborg barked out a laugh. "Oh Malcolm," he said toward the front, "she’s got jokes," tilting his head toward Malcolm’s profile. "Don’t get jealous, chief."
Malcolm didn’t look back. He just kept his eyes on the road.
Cyborg grinned, then his expression shifted, not serious exactly, but less playful.
"If you’re wondering why I care," he said, "it’s because he’s the reason I’m missing a leg."
Iyisha’s eyes flicked up to the mirror again, sharper this time. "What happened?"
Cyborg leaned back a little, settling into the story like it wasn’t something he had to rehearse.
"It was an extraction job," he said. "Supposed to be quick, get in, grab the asset, and move before anyone even knew we were there, and honestly getting inside wasn’t the problem. The problem was that the intel we were given was wrong, and by the time we figured that out we were already deep enough that pulling out clean wasn’t an option."
He shifted his weight, looking out the side window for a second before continuing.
"We had the target secured, and we were heading for the exit when the building lit up from three sides. Not random gunfire either. Coordinated. They’d been waiting. We got pinned in a hallway with nowhere good to go."
Malcolm’s jaw tightened slightly, but he said nothing.
Cyborg continued anyway.
"One of them came through the stairwell fast and close, and Malcolm dropped him with a knife before the guy even got a clean shot off. Problem was there were more behind him. I took a round in the knee before I even processed the sound."
Iyisha felt her fingers tighten on the edge of the seat.
Cyborg’s tone didn’t change. It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t heavy. Just matter of fact.
"I told him to leave me there," he said. "We had the asset. That was the job. Dragging me out would’ve slowed him down and probably gotten us both killed."
He gave a small, crooked smile.
"He didn’t even argue. He just ignored me."
Malcolm’s eyes stayed forward.
"He shoved the target down the stairwell with the other team, then dragged me into a room, flipped a table for cover, and held that position like he had all the time in the world. I don’t even know how long we were in there. Felt like forever. He took another hit in the shoulder and still didn’t move."
Cyborg looked at Iyisha through the mirror now.
"He could’ve left," he said. "No one would’ve blamed him. Mission would’ve been a success either way."
The road stretched long and open in front of them.
"But he stayed until backup punched through," Cyborg finished. "And by then my knee was gone."
Silence settled inside the vehicle for a few seconds.
Iyisha swallowed. "And you’re... joking about it?"
Cyborg smirked faintly. "What else am I supposed to do? Be dramatic about it for the rest of my life?"
He leaned back again.
"I’m alive. He’s alive. We got the asset out. That’s a win where we come from."
Iyisha’s gaze drifted to Malcolm’s reflection.
"He never told me," she said quietly.
Cyborg chuckled under his breath. "See? That’s him. Doesn’t advertise."
Then Cyborg leaned back again, tone light returning.
"So yeah," he said. "I keep tabs."
Malcolm spoke, low and final.
"Scott."
Cyborg grinned.
"What? She should know who she’s riding with."
