His upper lip burned. More warmth. More blood. It dripped into his mouth, metallic and bitter, sliding down his chin.
He turned his head as he ran. Too fast. Dizziness slammed into him.
The lights were closer now. Too close.
Then impact.
The tree loomed out of nowhere, and he slammed into it, full force. The breath whooshed out of his lungs. He went down hard, knees slamming onto jagged rocks, hands catching in the snow, fingers crushing unforgiving ice.
He might’ve cried out.
Pain lashed through his legs. He forced himself to move, to get up, to keep going. His face felt like he’d shoved it into boiling water. The same water Grandpa Joe had used to power wash the deck. Grandpa Joe. He’d been a good man.
Pain enveloped him, swallowing him whole. He needed to do something. Something—what?
The lights came closer. The beams cut through the trees behind him, bouncing off slick branches.
Run.
That was it. That was the only thing left. He staggered forward, slapping away a tangle of bare bushes, grabbing onto frozen rock. He scrambled up, ice searing into his palms, his breath ragged. Rain and blood slid down his cheeks.
He coughed. More warmth. More blood. Why was his mouth bleeding? He couldn’t think anymore.
They were coming. He had to beat them. The truth should win. His foot slipped. The world tilted. He windmilled his arms, skidding across an icy rock. Even gravity fucking hated him. His heart jackhammered as he teetered on the edge, his toes curling in an attempt to grip solid ground.
He looked down.
Way down.
A road twisted along the valley floor below, following the path of a rushing river. Cars crawled along the pavement, their headlights gleaming like tiny pinpricks against the dusk.
Too high up. He had to get down. Now. He turned around.
They emerged from the trees. Dressed in black. Lights in front of them. Hunting him. Shit. They’d found him. The one in front grinned, his crooked front tooth catching in the beam of a flashlight. He lifted a gloved hand, gesturing—a silent demand.
No. They couldn’t have him. Not again.
Sound roared back in like a thunderclap. A shrieking, splitting explosion in his skull.
The man in front spoke. “Come on. Let’s go.” His voice was flat. Dead. As were his eyes.
“No.” One simple word. The only thing he had left. He smiled, held out his arms, and fell back.
The men in black bellowed.
Air rushed around him, pulling at his clothes, whipping hair into his eyes. The rain hit like bullets. A sudden flash of pain stole his breath.
Horns honked. Brakes squealed.
Then—
Nothing.
“Grandpa Joe?” he whispered.
Chapter 1
It had been exactly twenty-nine days since her half sister had brutally stabbed their father to death.
