I wrap my arm around his waist. He puts his weight on me. He is heavy—a mountain of muscle and bone that is slowly shutting down. I grunt with the effort, dragging him to the passengerside. I shove him in. He collapses onto the black leather seat, his head lolling back.
I run to the driver’s side. I jump in. The interior smells of new leather and gun oil. I hit the start button. The engine roars to life—a deep, guttural growl that vibrates through the chassis and up my spine. The dashboard lights up like a cockpit.
"Seatbelt," Alaric whispers. Even dying, he is the Director.
"Shut up," I snap, clicking my belt in. "How do I get out? The door is closed."
"Ram it?" he suggests weakly.
"No. There has to be a tunnel."
"Smart girl," he breathes, his eyes fluttering shut. "South wall. The panel... looks like a tool cabinet."
I slam the gearshift into Drive. I stomp on the gas. The car lurches forward. I spin the wheel, tires squealing on the polished floor. I aim for the south wall. I don't slow down. If he’s lying, we die. If he’s hallucinating, we die.Trust the monster.
I brace for impact. At the last second, the sensor reads the car’s transponder. The fake wall splits open. We shoot into a dark tunnel. It’s narrow. Rough-hewn rock. I turn on the high beams. They cut through the darkness, illuminating the path upward.
"Where does this go?" I yell over the engine noise.
"Highway 9," Alaric murmurs. He is pressing a towel from the glove box against his shoulder. The white terry cloth is already soaked red. "Two miles north... of the house."
We climb. The tunnel winds up through the mountain. I drive fast, too fast. My hands are white-knuckled on the steering wheel. My pianist fingers, which usually dance with suchlightness, are gripping the leather like claws. I glance at the rearview mirror. Nothing yet.
We burst out of the tunnel mouth, crashing through a camouflage net of fake pine branches. The world explodes into white again. We are on the road. The wind hits the armored glass with a shriek. The snow is coming down in sheets, horizontal and blinding. I skid, the heavy tail of the SUV fishtailing on the black ice. "Easy!" Alaric barks, snapping back to consciousness. "Steer into the slide! Don't touch the brakes!"
I fight the wheel.Left. Right.The tires find traction. The car straightens out. I floor it.
"We need distance," I say, my voice shaking. "We need a hospital."
"No hospital," Alaric growls. "They’ll finish the job. We go to the Safe House Bravo."
"You havetwosafe houses?"
"I have five. Drive."
I look at the speedometer. Eighty miles per hour on a mountain pass in a blizzard. I am insane. Or I am finally awake.
CRACK.The back window spiderwebs. I scream.
"Contact!" Alaric shouts, twisting in his seat to look back. "They’re behind us!"
I check the mirror. Through the swirling snow, I see lights. Xenon headlights. High off the ground. Two black SUVs. They are gaining on us. A muzzle flash lights up the interior of the lead car.Ping.A bullet hits the rear liftgate.
"They’re shooting at us!" I yell, swerving to avoid the next volley.
"They’re shooting at the tires," Alaric corrects. He reaches under his seat. He pulls out a submachine gun. An MP5. "Keep it steady."
"Alaric, you can't aim! You're bleeding out!"
"I don't need to aim," he says, rolling down his window. The freezing wind and snow blast into the cabin, swirling around us like a hurricane. "I just need to make them flinch."
He leans out. With his good arm, he rests the gun on the door frame.BRRRRRT.A burst of automatic fire rips from the gun. The sound is deafening inside the car. Hot brass casings fly everywhere, bouncing off the dashboard, burning my neck.
Behind us, the lead SUV swerves. Alaric hit their windshield. "Drive, Elodie! Faster!"
I press the pedal to the floor. The engine screams. We hit a curve. I drift, the back wheels hanging precariously over the edge of the cliff. Below us, a thousand-foot drop into the valley. My heart stops. I yank the wheel. We slam back onto the asphalt.
"You're doing great," Alaric yells over the wind. He is pale as death, his teeth bared in a feral grin. He looks like a demon enjoying the ride to hell. "Just like the piano! Rhythm! Flow!"
