Blood ran into his eye. He blinked it away.
Harper.
Move.
11
The world had shiftedout of alignment.
Sound came first. Muffled and distorted, as if traveling through deep water. A high-pitched whine engulfed everything else. Then sensation. Cold against her cheek. Something wet tracked down her temple.
The windshield was beside her.
Her harness pulled sideways across her chest, dragging her left shoulder down. Snow blew in through a jagged crack, dusting her arms. She was half-hanging in the co-pilot seat, the angle bad enough to make her inner ear revolt.
Oh God.
The helicopter was on its side.
Hands. Warm. On her jaw, her cheeks, tilting her head.
Fingers pressed behind her ear—checking for blood, checking her skull—then moved down her arms. Her sides. Her legs. Quick but thorough.
Pav’s face swam into focus. Blood smeared his forehead and his left eye. He blinked it away without wiping it. His mouth was moving.
Sound crashed back—wind, metal ticking as it cooled, his voice.
“—hear me? Harper. Can you hear me?”
She nodded. Or thought she did. Something moved. Her chin? Close enough.
She twisted against her harness, fighting to see into the back. The rear cabin was crushed inward, the roof caved to half its height, metal folded like paper. Sasha was still strapped in—hanging crookedly, head dropped, arms dangling loose.
No.
“Brace.” Pav’s hand was already at her harness.
“Sasha—” She shoved him away and punched the release herself. The harness gave. She dropped sideways, shoulder slamming into the doorframe, pain stabbing electric.
Ice and glass ground into her palms. Paneling flexed under her weight. Nothing was where it should be.
Ignoring Pav, she hauled herself over a seat and half-fell beside Sasha. Sasha’s face was waxy. Lips blue-white. The bandage at her side soaked black.
Harper pressed two fingers into the groove below her jaw.
Nothing.
Only terrible stillness beneath her fingers. She shifted to the other side, refusing the answer. The ringing in her ears made it impossible to trust what she felt—was that her own pulse in her fingertips?
No pulse.
No, no?—
Harper pressed harder, as if force could change the answer but Sasha remained still. Ice flooded Harper’s veins. She’d made the call and put Sasha in this helicopter.
A gloved hand closed around her arm. “Harper. We need to go.”
She didn’t move. “We need to get Sasha out?—”
