“Reece, wait!”
But just as Reece had stepped forward, the snow gave wayunder his feet and he was falling, stomach plummeting as he went tumbling several feet down the mountainside.
He landed in a snowbank, and the shock of cold against his face was like a physical slap. Why hadn’thegrabbed a coat from the barracks—
The snow was suddenly brushed away at his side. “Are you all right?”
“I’m okay.” Reece distantly registered the lie. “Just fucking cold.”
“At least you missed the trees.” There was an insistent tug on his sweatshirt sleeve. “I got you,” said Grayson, his grip strong enough to help Reece up. “Come on.”
Moments later, they were back on their feet, fighting their way through the snow but having to temper their walks to the steep ground.
Up ahead through the trees, Reece could just make out a shiny black mass. “There she is!”
“Hallelujah.” Grayson followed him forward, still without his usual grace.
They got into the truck just as a loud boom echoed around the mountainside. Reece looked back at the lab just in time to see flames erupt from a set of ground-floor windows, leaping red and orange illuminating the snow.
“Someone’s playing with chemicals,” he observed as he turned the key. The truck came to life with a beautiful roar. “I love this thing,” Reece admitted, shivering hard enough to make his hand shaky as he went for the seat belt. “You’re never getting her back. Put your damn seat belt on.”
“Reece—”
“This is going to be a bitch of a drive, and I promise nothing,” Reece said. “Seat belt. On.”
As slow as he could, he pulled the truck out into the snow and began to inch down the mountainside.
Grayson was going for the heat and seat warmers. “Where are we?”
“Olympic Mountains. Really fucking far from anything.” Reece swore again as the tires slipped and the truck slid several feet down the mountainside. “Evan, trying to drive might be a bad decision.”
“Of course it is.” Grayson’s teeth were chattering. “But staying in that lab to await the cavalry would’ve been worse.”
The truck slid again, then got its grip. Reece tightened his hands on the steering wheel as he swerved around a cluster of trees.
“How damp are your clothes?” Grayson asked.
“I’m soaked, but it doesn’t matter,” Reece said. “The heat’s on—”
A sudden crack split the air. A moment later, a giant branch smashed the windshield, and the truck spiraled out of his control, sliding straight for another grouping of trees.
Reece had a split second to react: Continue the slide right and smash the passenger side; turn the wheel and collide on the driver’s side.
But he knew in his bones that when it came to Evan, there was only one decision he was ever going to make.
He yanked the wheel to spin Grayson safely out of reach just as the truck impacted hard enough to rattle his teeth. There was a loud crunch and a burst of white.
And then everything was black.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
. . . I’m willing to admit that I don’t have the first clue how Alex Grayson turned Evan Grayson into the Dead Man, but it hardly matters. We might not know how it was achieved, but we know he can no longer be swayed by emotion. We can be certain that in any situation, Agent Grayson will always follow the most logical path.
—Confidential communication between the Empath Initiative and Stone Solutions
Jamey’s house was bustling that night. Liam and Gretel were sharing the kitchen table, bent over Beau Macy’s laptop. Aisha and Diesel were in the living room, Gretel’s printouts from Stone Solutions spread out over the coffee table.
Jamey herself was pacing the hall. She’d had no word from Grayson since he’d left that morning for Port Angeles, and her last text to him still sat on her phone unanswered. She looked at her other unanswered calls and texts, to Reece, to Cora, to Alex.
