Gio rubbed a hand over his face, refusing to acknowledge the way it was shaking with exhaustion. He hadn't slept last night, debating what to say to Marcus with the clinic results swirling around in his head.

"Now, we get out of here."

"My car is downstairs," Marcus said.

"No. It's too traceable," he said. He scanned the wreckage of the very nice apartment that he'd slept in less than two days ago. It was complete and total devastation, meticulous and meant to intimidate. Whoever did this had to have been here shortly after Marcus left for work. Which meant this wasn't about the stairwell. This was about him.

Curtis had a 'range accident' a week ago, but Michaels was just now picking up Gio's calls. He struggled to remember exactly what he'd said in his voicemails. He'd been in a panic about the pregnancy, but if Michaels had something to hide... It could have sounded like Gio had found evidence of the money laundering.

Saying a prayer of thanks to Curtis and his petty need to give him a shitty assignment, Gio pulled Marcus back toward the stairs. "We'll take my car."

The trip back to the parking garage was twice as nerve-racking, Gio's skin crawling with the need to get both of them out of the open. Marcus was every bit the nice guy that he'd believed him to be from the beginning, and now he was in danger because of Gio.

"Let me check and make sure nobody's left me any surprises," Gio said, holding Marcus back as they approached the rust-covered behemoth. At least now, if they needed it to, he had every confidence that the car could run well enough to take them all the way to Mexico.

Peering under the car, checking inside the hood, and feeling along the wheel wells, he finally waved Marcus over. Either they hadn't known which car was his, or they hadn't thought he'd risk taking the rickety piece of junk.

"Give me the keys," Marcus said, nudging him toward the passenger side. "You look beat."

"You don't know where we're going," Gio said, gripping his keys until they dug into his palm.

"Neither do you."

He couldn't argue, so he threw him the keys with a grumble and climbed in. He slumped in his seat, relaxed except for the way his fists were clenched so tight that his fingernails dug crescents of pain into his palms. Once they were through the twisty one-way streets of downtown, he relaxed enough to pull out his phone.

"Let me try a couple more numbers," he said. He flipped his phone open, but when it came right down to it, he wasn't sure who he could call. If Michaels really was in on this, then who would be able to get around him? He was the next link in the chain of command for just about everyone that Gio knew.

Except Paolo.

Dialing the omega's office number, he cursed when he realized that it was after hours with the difference in time zones. It went to voicemail, and he hung up without leaving a message. The personal cell, a number he hadn't used in over a year, rang ten times before the call disconnected.

"Fuck." He pressed his palms to his temples and tried to think. What emergency channels would Michaels not be monitoring? "Head for New York," he told Marcus as they came up on a major highway junction.

"You should get some rest," Marcus said. "Try again later."

It was a sensible suggestion, but he couldn't make himself close his eyes. "I have no idea what to do now," he said as they merged on to I-90. He hadn't meant to say the words, but it didn't make them any less true.

Marcus was quiet for a long time, and against his will, Gio felt his eyelids droop. "Do you trust me enough to let me try some phone calls?" he asked, so quiet that the roar of the engine almost drowned him out.

Wide awake, Gio stared at him. "No," he said instinctively. Then, as the request filtered into the more practical areas of his brain, he swallowed down his unease. "To who?"

"My brothers, from the frat."

Gio snorted. "You think some frat boys are going to be able to help?"

Frowning at the road, Marcus opened his mouth, but snapped it shut with a click. "You don't know them like I do," he said. "They can help."

For six miles, Gio stared at his phone. As of right now, he was out of options. Other than calling every field office in the country and trying to get one of them to listen to his conspiracy theories, he had no idea who to call next. And who knew if he was even right about Michaels. Maybe the man was just a slimy bastard. "If I can't get anyone by the time we stop for gas," he said, "we'll try it your way."

"Thank you," Marcus said. Gio didn't miss the way he glanced at the gas meter. They'd be to Cleveland before they had to stop.

Dialing Paolo's personal cell again, he listened to it ring over and over again. At some point, he dozed off.

He dreamed about standing on the edge of a cliff, the ground crumbling underneath him as he struggled to stay ahead of the slide. He jerked awake as his body hit freefall.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up."

Marcus was highlighted by floodlights, his hands warm on Gio's arm as he kept him from falling out the open passenger door.

"Where are we?" Gio asked, the words slurring together.

"Outside Erie. It's almost midnight."

"Did you call already?" He dragged himself upright and flipped open his phone, cursing when the screen remained dark. "My phone is dead."

"I'll pick up a charging cord while I'm inside," Marcus said, gently turning his hand so he could see the charger port. "I wasn't going to call anyone until you woke up."

The worst part was that he genuinely didn't sound judgmental. It made Gio's gut churn with guilt. "Make the call," he said, dragging himself out of the car.

"Okay," he said easily. "What can you tell me about what's going on?"

Looking around the rest stop, empty of even the ubiquitous sleeping long haul drivers, Gio sighed. "Technically? Nothing."

Marcus sighed, staring at the sky. "Then just tell me if I'm right," he said. "Those men in the Vault, they were Wolves, weren't they?"

Exhaustion pressed down on him, deeper than just a few nights of missed sleep, and Gio couldn't think of a good reason not to tell him. "Yes."

Nodding, Marcus pushed away from the car. "Let me get some coffee, this is going to take a while."

"I'm going to take a piss," Gio said, shuffling across the pavement. The air was still warm from the summer sun, the heat barely touching the cold panic in his bones.

The bathroom was empty and clean, but Gio was too twitchy to let the door close all the way, wedging it open with the trash can while he peed. On the way out, he grabbed a pack of preservative filled cherry pies. The thought of eating them turned his stomach, but the pure sugar would keep him going.

"I got you decaf," Marcus said as he climbed back into the car.

Gio glared at him for a moment until his eyes dropped to his waist. "Right," he said, shifting uncomfortably. "Good idea."

He expected Marcus to call his frat brother immediately, but he pulled out of the parking lot and got back on the highway. "What have I told you about my frat brother, Teddy?"

Exasperated, Gio threw his hands in the air, almost sending his coffee cup flying. "Seriously? You might have mentioned the guy once. How am I supposed to know?"

"Teddy and his husband, Carlos, had twins recently," Marcus said so calmly that Gio wanted to scream. "Two boys. They named the oldest after Teddy, but the younger one, they named after Carlos's dad."

"Why do I care?" Gio asked.

"Because you trust me."

Gio grimaced. "That was a low blow."

Marcus smiled. "Maybe. Now let me finish."

Crossing his arms, Gio glared out the window, ignoring the warm chuckle it earned him.

"Everyone was surprised that Carlos would name his son after his father. They don't get along, you see? But with the baby having those eyes, he didn't have a choice..." Even in the reflection on the windshield, Marcus was smiling like an idiot.

"Great. Eyes. Wonderful," Gio grumbled. He absolutely was not getting warm fuzzies from the thought of Marcus smiling about their baby like that.

The air was oddly charged as Marcus continued, "They named the baby Leon because of his golden yellow eyes."

Gio whipped around, staring at his profile. "Leon, as in El Leon, the head of the Lions gang?"

"Might be," Marcus said, a smug little smile creasing his lips.

"Are you kidding me?" Gio stared at him. There was no way in hell. Gio had stopped believing in fate and karma years ago, but this was beyond the realm of coincidence. "Your best friend is married to the son of one of the biggest gang leaders in the world?"

"If you think that's a trip, wait till you meet Nikolai," Marcus muttered. "I'm pretty sure he's Russian mob royalty."

"Ha ha. Very funny." Gio's mind raced. "If your friend isn't part of the gang, what do you think he can do?"

Marcus shrugged. "I try not to ask about Carlos and the gangs. I do know that he wants to get rid of the Wolves."

"Fuck. This is huge," Gio said. He'd deny it to his dying day, but he was practically bouncing in his seat. Where there had previously been only a dead end, a whole lot of options had just opened up to him. "Make the call."

"Make it yourself," Marcus said, tossing his phone over. "Oh, and don't forget to plug your phone in."

"Yes, Mom," he snapped, already thumbing through the menus of the expensive smartphone.

Laughing, Marcus smoothed a hand over his knee. "They used to call me that. In the frat," he said. "And Teddy is in my favorites menu."

Wide awake, Gio downed half his coffee while he waited for someone to pick up. "Are you sure it's okay to call? It's almost midnight," he said belatedly, making no move to hang up.

"I may have sent out an SOS earlier, so I'm pretty sure everyone I know is awake right now," Marcus said.

Gio groaned. "When did you do that?"

"After the second time you almost shot me, I think."

"I fucking hate you."

"See," an unfamiliar voice said, echoing tinnily from the phone's speaker, "I told you he was fine."

"Pinche brujo, witch. Give me the phone. Marcus, what's wrong?" The first voice subsided with a muffled grunt, and a second, more accented voice came to the fore.

"Hi, Carlos," Marcus said cheerfully.

"Don't you 'hi' me, asshole. Are you okay? Your apartment was trashed."

Marcus winced. "You saw that, huh? Look, there might have been a little trouble, but—" He raised his voice as the phone erupted in Spanish. Gio might not have understood the language, but he knew swear words when he heard them. "—I'm not the right person to explain it all to you. Guys, say hello to Gio."

The phone went dead silent. Marcus poked him in the thigh until Gio rolled his eyes and said, "Hi."

"Gio, as in the guy Kurt was trying unsuccessfully to hunt down?"

When Gio turned wide eyes on him, the flush was halfway up Marcus's neck. "Do we have to mention that now?"

"Yes," Carlos said. "He hasn't found anything. Nothing, nada, zilch. We were starting to think you'd made the guy up."

"He didn't," Gio said. "That was all Uncle Sam."

The line went quiet again. "You're a fucking Fed?"

"FBI. Well, technically," Gio corrected, "I'm on loan to the Treasury. I was assigned to go undercover and find out if there was any connection between certain accounting firms in Chicago and the Wolves' drug operation."

"Puta de madre," Carlos shouted, the line crackling with his rage. "Of course, it comes back to the Wolves."

"Carlos, the Wolves were in Chicago," Marcus said, but Gio cut him off.

"Tomas Perron was there to get access to the gang's accounts. He probably succeeded, too." Gio paused, biting his lip until he tasted blood. "I think he's got a man in the FBI."

There were voices in the background, and Carlos shushed them. "You think that's how they knew to hit Marcus's house?" Each word was bitten off, the line popping and hissing with impotent fury.

Gio glanced out the window. "I do," he said. "What they did would have taken hours, and even if it wasn't the same group we saw with Perron, they would have at least had to know where to go before they ever set foot in Bainbridge and Parker."

"Fuck," Carlos said emphatically. Gio nodded agreement. "I need to make some calls. Marcus?"

"Here," Marcus said, his hand still resting on Gio's knee.

"Brendan says that you can go to his cabin. They were going to head there as soon as Nate finished school, so it's stocked. You know where the key is?"

"I remember."

"Good. We're on our way."

The call ended, the phone going dark.

"Where is the cabin?" Gio asked.

Marcus glanced at him. In the flashes of light from the street lamps, Gio could see the heavy bags under his eyes; he looked terrible. "Lake Pleasant. About halfway between Syracuse and Vermont," he said.

"Pull over," Gio said, tucking the phone into the glove box, the cord dangling out through the gap. "You look exhausted, and I'm wide awake. I'll drive to Syracuse, and then we can switch again."

For a moment, it looked like he would argue, but at the next exit, he pulled over.

It took a moment for Gio to adjust the seat and mirrors for his smaller frame, and by the time he pulled back on the highway, Marcus was sound asleep.

Gio had always enjoyed driving, spending his summers going on day trips to get away from his family. There was something about the highway, even with the added creepiness of the middle of the night, that was soothing. Before he knew it, he was pulling off to stretch his legs, the horizon starting to burn with the coming day.

He'd made good time, deciding to keep going on I-90 as they passed through Syracuse, rather than waking Marcus. Pulling out Marcus's phone, he'd pulled up the GPS and followed I-90 to a smaller highway that had gradually turned into an even smaller highway passing through acres of farms. He'd had to pee for almost twenty minutes when he finally spotted the tiny gas station in the quaint little town of Floyd.

His back, knee, and hip popped as he straightened up, a chorus of aches and pains making themselves known. None were as strong as the complaints of his bladder, so he dragged his sorry carcass around to the restrooms, only to find he needed a key.

It wasn't quite six, and the town was obviously not a hotbed of activity, so he assumed he'd be peeing against a tree somewhere. As he rounded the front again, he checked the door just in case, surprised to find it swung open easily. The bored teenager behind the counter looked half asleep, a corn-fed blond with a farmer's tan and a universally understood attitude of disdain.

He even had to edge around two other people in the tiny aisle, an overweight alpha following an omega even smaller than Gio around the store with his arms full of food.

"You got the map, stupid?" the omega asked as the kid tossed Gio the key without looking up.

"Yeah, Chuy," the big alpha said, practically vibrating with excitement.

Gio shuffled around the back, sparing a quick glance to check if Marcus was awake. It wouldn't be long before the sun was bright enough to drag him to the land of the living. There was no reason to rush the process along, he reasoned.

The bathroom was small, just a toilet and a sink. It was clean, though, and Gio was grateful. He was washing his hands when the doorknob rattled, then rattled again.

"Out in a second," Gio called, wiping his hands dry on his jeans.

The doorknob rattled again.

Calling himself paranoid the whole time, Gio crouched and pulled the gun out of its ankle harness. "Just a minute," he said again.

Slowly, the doorknob turned.

"We really need to stop meeting like this," Marcus said as he stuck his head around the door frame and was met with Gio's gun.

Slumping, Gio flipped him off. "One of these days, I'm going to shoot you just on principle. Didn't you hear me say I'd be right out?"

"I really have to pee," Marcus said with a shrug. He slipped inside, already undoing his pants.

"Gross," Gio grumbled, sticking his tongue out. "Did you seriously pick the lock just to be able to pee faster? Where did you even learn to pick locks?"

"The same place I learned how to pick pockets: one of my frat brothers." He grinned over his shoulder as he tucked himself away again. "Kurt used to drag us to the annual Frat Row Talent Show. It was quite the production."

"And you were a common criminal?" Gio asked.

"No," Marcus said, leaning down and kissing him as he turned the water on to wash his hands. "I was a magician. And yes, before you ask, I can hotwire a car."

"I'm starting to think these brothers of yours are bad influences," Gio snapped as they walked out of the bathroom, Marcus's arm around his shoulders.

Marcus threw his head back and laughed. "You have no idea."