581 Birch Lane. The road will be blocked with snow, and maybe a tree.
Stay inside and lock the doors. Help will be there soon.
No dice, Jett wasn’t going to let Mike lay a hand on Harrison. He would shoot him before that happened.
Jett had ended the call, shoved his boots on, and sprinted out the door to search for any sign of movement in the storm. The wind wasn’t blowing, but the snow was still coming down hard enough to turn everything around him white.
He thought he might never see them, but then he heard Mike’s voice in the direction of the lake, and he knew exactly where they were.
Shotgun in hand, Jett stormed after them. He was prepared to do what needed to be done—that included blowing Mike’s goddamn head off.
The air was frigid, and Jett was only wearing a sweater, but he didn’t feel the cold. His eyes were focused on the two figures ahead, where they stood near the center of the lake.
There was a bone-chilling echo of ice cracking under his feet, and he remembered the comment Harrison had made about the lake not being safe to walk on yet.
He pumped his legs faster, and the bitter taste of blood filled his mouth. He was so close he could hear the voices clearly in the distance.
Harrison only needed to hold on for a little longer, and he would be there. He could save them, he could—
A crack as loud as a bomb made the ice under his feet shudder. Jett heard Mike’s yelp of fear, and then a splash when he fell through the ice.
But where was Harrison?
Had he fallen in too?
Ice was crackling under him, but Jett didn’t stop because he would never forgive himself if Harrison died like this. Not likethis. Not cold and alone, drowning in darkness under the ice.
He slipped, nearly falling into the hole created by the men who fell through it. Jett frantically searched the area, but there was no sign of Mike or Harrison.
He was about to dive in after them when the snow suddenly lifted, and Jett caught sight of a hand gripping the edge of the ice.
Gasping, he crawled around the opening as carefully as he could while still moving quickly. He didn’t want to risk breaking the ice and knocking that hand off.
He didn’t know if it was Harrison or Mike, but if any god owed him anything, it would beHarrison’s.
Jett seized the wrist under the water, cringing at how cold it was. He knew he didn’t have time, so he started pulling with everything he had, praying the ice he was kneeling on was strong enough to hold him and another body.
His arms were sliced open on the sharp edges of the ice, but the second he saw a head with long black hair, strength that he’d never known before filled him from head to toe. He pulled Harrison out of the water, rolling them over again and again until they were a comfortable distance away from the opening.
Jett had to leave the gun behind, but it was a risk he had to take. Harrison needed him. He wasn’t breathing, and his skin was tinged blue like a corpse. He tried to find his pulse, but it either wasn’t there or was too slow to detect.
Harrisondid have apulse.
“Shit!” Jett cried, immediately leaning over him, clamping Harrison’s nose shut and pressing their mouths together to breathe air into his lungs. He started compressions, pumping Harrison’s chest hard and fast—just like he’d been taught in first aid.
When he felt a rib snap, he sobbed before ducking down to breathe for him again.
“Please,” he begged, unsure of who he was asking. “Please don’t—I can’t.”
Harrison’s body was jerking lifelessly with the compressions. Jett hated how peaceful he looked with his face slack and eyes closed. He didn’t want him to be peaceful and dead; he wanted himhere.
“Harrison!”
Jett pushed more air into his lungs, and Harrison’s bodyseized, struggling to come back to life. Crying, Jett shoved him onto his side and hit his back, relief flooding him when water and bile spilled from his mouth.
His sobs kept catching in his throat, burning and choking, but he held himself together and kept smacking Harrison’s back until he was sure most of the water was out.
He was breathing, and his skin was pinkening up, but there was blood dripping onto the snow near his head at a rate Jett wasn’t comfortable with.
