CHAPTER
ONE
TWO WEEKS BEFORE CHRISTMAS
The tires slipped and,just for a second, the SUV fishtailed on the narrow mountain road.
Quickly, Jason Stewart corrected and brought the vehicle back into line.
Olive Sterling’s fingers tightened around the door handle as her pulse pounded in her ears. “That didn’t feel reassuring.”
Jason’s mouth ticked as he focused on the curve ahead. “Relax. I’ve got this.”
“Those were famous last words for a lot of people.”
The wipers squeaked across the windshield, struggling to keep up with the thick, wet flakes cascading from above. A gray-blue sky pressed low over the Smoky Mountains, swallowing the last of the daylight. Pine trees flanked them on either side, dusted in white.
Beautiful.
Picturesque.
Also dangerous when the road was barely wide enough for one vehicle and had no guardrails.
“This is supposed to be a retreat,” she murmured. “Retreats should be sunshine and hammocks, not switchbacks and black ice.”
“Technically, Rex called it ‘mandatory rest and review.’” Jason took the next curve more slowly. “He didn’t say anything about hammocks.”
Mandatory rest. Olive had almost laughed when she’d read those words in the email.
Rest wasn’t something she did well. Her brain didn’t know how to be quiet.
But Rex hadn’t given her an option.
“You’re taking the week,” he’d said. “You and Jason and the rest of your field team. And you’ll go where I tell you. Eat what I tell you. Pretend to enjoy yourselves. Those are your orders.”
Olive hadn’t argued. Not much, at least.
“See?” Jason jerked his head toward the windshield. “We’re almost there.”
Ahead, a wooden sign emerged from the snow: The Wayfarer Inn. Private Road.
An arrow pointed toward a narrower lane branching off to the right.
This was it. The start of their retreat.
According to Rex, no one else lived or stayed within a six-mile radius of the place.
He’d been very particular about the location.
The lane climbed, the asphalt disappearing under a fresh layer of snow. A few tracks had already been cut through—other vehicles, probably from Aegis.
Out of habit, Olive began counting the tire patterns. Two sets heading up. One set coming down.
She squinted.
No wait—there were two sets coming down.
Her mind logged the numbers whether she wanted it to or not.
