Page 138 of Glitched Fates & Stolen Mates

Inside the rental office, two touch screens displayed an endless parade of vehicles. Rory immediately gravitated towards the largest options, swiping through SUVs with the enthusiasm of a child in a sweet shop.

“We need the biggest and baddest baby to get us there,” he declared, tapping a massive black Range Rover.

The man behind the counter looked less than convinced, his eyes darting between the pair of us—two scruffy Brits in brand-new ski gear, one bouncing on his toes with manic energy, the other clutching a houseplant like a security blanket.

“Would you like to purchase enhanced insurance?” he asked in perfect English.

“Definitely,” I said before Rory could object.

The price appeared on the counter screen. I choked on my own spit.

“It’s okay,” Rory whispered, leaning close. “I’ve got Theo’s credit card.”

“Brilliant,” I replied, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “That’s just brilliant.”

Ten minutes later, we were the proud temporary owners of a pristine black Range Rover, driving out of the car park. Rory only stalled three times getting onto the main road. I plugged some coordinates into the sat nav, directing us towards the Autobahn that would at least head us in roughly the right direction of the Grisons mountains.

The engine roared as Rory pressed the accelerator with perhaps too much enthusiasm. My knuckles went white where I gripped the door handle.

“Rory,” I said carefully, “maybe you should—”

A horn blared as a lorry swerved around us.

I closed my eyes. It was no good. This was how I’d die—not heroically rescuing the man I was falling in love with from a shadowy classified military programme, but in a mangled heap of metal on a Swiss motorway because Rory Thorne couldn’t work out which pedal was which.

Once Rory found his rhythm on the long, straight Autobahn, his driving improved marginally. Possibly the constant gear changes and roundabouts had been his downfall—now he could focus on the simple task of pointing the massive SUV in one direction and keeping it there.

“So, it says here that some of the roads on this route are closed over the winter,” I told him, squinting at my tablet where I’d been studying our journey through increasingly remote mountain passes.

“How closed?” Rory asked, tapping the steering wheel to some rhythm only he could hear.

“Um… probably quite closed?”

“It’s fine. That bloke at the rental desk said there are snow chains in the boot. We’ll pull over and put them on when we get to them.”

I sank back into my seat, wishing I had Rory’s sunny optimism. All I could picture was the pair of us flying off a mountain road in this Range Rover, Princess the houseplant being the only witness to our spectacular demise.

“Theo knew about you two, by the way.”

“What?”

“About you and Kit. He’s a telepath. So he heard all your dirty thoughts.”

“Oh. Right.” I shifted uncomfortably. “He never said anything until the other day.”

“Of course he didn’t. He didn’t tell me either, the traitor.”

I managed a weak laugh. “Stealing his credit card was probably too far on the revenge front.”

“I didn’t steal his card,” Rory protested, glancing at me with wounded pride. “He gave me my very own copy, connected to his account. For emergencies.”

“That’s… brave of him.”

Rory glowered at me. “He trusts me.”

I looked around the luxury interior of our hired tank, mentally calculating the growing damage to Theo’s bank balance. I could only pray his banking app wasn’t one that popped up with a notification every time there was a spend.

We’d both switched our phones to airplane mode hours ago, though I still had Wi-Fi and data through the encrypted connection I’d set up via satellite.