Chapter 39
Thirty-Nine
What am I doing? What am I doing?
Darkness would be closing in soon, and she shivered partly from the cold, but mostly with fear for her life while that warm ranger cabin called to her—but she’d known that death waited for her there. She wasn’t so sure that death didn’t wait for her here.
Maybe she’d acted rashly, but she knew to her core that Malcolm wouldn’t let them live. She was a desperate woman, and she had to maximize this moment. Her gloved fingers gripped the vial.
She didn’t step forward to offer it over but instead took a step back and away.
The weight of Jeremy’s voice still echoed in her ears—“Mama?”—fragile and confused. Crying. Alone. And she was standing here in the snow, surrounded by traitors, holding the one thing they wanted more than her son’s life. Anger fueled her.
Desperation and absolute rage.
Malcolm spoke. His mouth was moving, but she didn’t hear the words. He said something about protocol. Responsibility. History. But all she could hear over that noise was her son’s voice calling out to her.
And her mind screamed . . . These animals. These monsters!
All she could see was the woman standing next to Malcolm.
Her brother’s widow—Tessa.
The woman who’d sung lullabies to Jeremy when Sarah was too exhausted to keep her eyes open. The woman who’d smiled at Aaron across the table during Sunday dinners. The woman who’d laced her betrayal into the seams of their lives so carefully no one noticed—until it was too late.
Sarah’s blood roared as she tightened her grip on the vial of death. She raised it up, arm steady. It felt like no one had heard her and no one believed her.
“This glass will shatter the second it hits a rock,” she said, her voice low, controlled. “If I drop it, no one gets anything. Not your sample. Not your research. Not your power. In fact, you could all die.”
Malcolm raised both hands a fraction. “Don’t be foolish.”
“Oh, I’ve been foolish,” she said. “Letting her in my house. Trusting her with my son. But not today.”
“You’ve seen he’s safe,” Malcolm said. “That’s what you wanted.”
“I heard his voice.” Her voice cracked. “I heard him crying. That’s not proof of safety. That’s proof you’re holding a toddler hostage.”
Tessa’s arms remained folded, but her face had changed. Paled. Jaw tight. Maybe she’d cared for her family, for Sarah’s son. Maybe not. Even if she had cared, only someone with a stone-cold heart could do what Tessa had done.
“You want the coordinates?” Sarah asked. “You want this vial? Then I want a full extraction. My son in my arms. Somewhere safe. Somewhere public. Or this vial is shattered.”
“You can’t possibly think you’re going to get out of this without giving us something,” Malcolm snapped, his patience running thin.
Sarah smiled. “I just did.”
And maybe he was right, and she was losing it, really losing it.
She’d reached her tipping point and had gone over.
She took another step back, the vial dangling from her fingers now over a boulder—free of snow and ice—ready to shatter and turn into their death trap. One wrong move and it would fall.
Behind her, Ryder shifted, staying close. Silent. Steady. She felt his presence like a tether, and he probably didn’t like the direction she’d taken either, but then again, their backs had been forced against this wall.
Malcolm turned on Tessa. “Do something.”
Tessa didn’t move.
Sarah met her eyes. “Is this who you are now? The woman who helps a man use a child as a pawn?”
Tessa swallowed hard.
“I don’t even know you,” Sarah whispered. And she never had.
For a second, everything stilled like the forest itself was holding its breath.
Malcolm’s voice sliced through the cold. “You’re bluffing.”
“Try me.” Sarah lifted the vial another inch, then cocked her arm back like she meant to throw it down hard against the boulder. He’d always been able to see through her bluffs. And now he knew—this time she was not bluffing.
And her old boss flinched. The tallest of his men raised his rifle, aiming at her.
Ryder stepped in front of her fast. “You fire on her,” he warned, “and I’ll make sure what she’s holding disappears forever.”
Malcolm’s control cracked, his face contorting into something untamed, vicious, and frankly unrecognizable, once again confirming she didn’t know this man she’d trusted with her life. That man was long gone, if he’d ever existed.
“We want the boy,” Ryder said. “Safe. Delivered to Mercy Ridge. You make it happen. Then we talk.”
Like Sarah would ever give this to them. Malcolm hesitated, weighing options.
Sarah’s hand never wavered. This wasn’t a negotiation. It was a standoff, and she was ready to end it.