She should have been afraid of him. She should have been terrified. But the scariest thing on that mountain was the look on Sawyer’s face as he climbed to his feet. She watched as he grew taller and stronger and darker.
Posture changing. Features shifting. It was like every muscle in his body suddenly morphed into something that was genetically the same but totally different.
She watched Sawyer become his own evil twin, and all Zoe could do was lie on the icy ground, wondering if she was watching him pull on a facade or take one off? All she really knew was that her Sawyer was gone.
He pulled the drive from his pocket and handed it to Kozlov, smirked down at Zoe on the ground. “I told you I could get her to trust me.”
She was wrong, Zoe realized. She was wrong. Her Sawyer had never existed at all.
She was aware, faintly, of Kozlov looking down at her like she was a curiosity—a sideshow. A freak. She felt naked and vulnerable and exposed, but also numb and empty and brittle as a sick smile spread across the old man’s face.
“Bring the traitor,” he said flatly. “Kill the blonde.”
A dozen men lunged for Alex, who was shouting and screaming and fighting. She was fighting so hard that no one seemed to notice the way Sawyer was looking at Zoe, stepping toward Zoe, grabbing Zoe by the arms and pulling her to her feet.
She tried to jerk away but Sawyer was a wall of muscle, pressing forward until she felt the snow-covered ledge against the back of her legs.
“Careful,” he warned. “Do you want to fall down another mountain?”
Somewhere, Alex screamed. “Run, Zoe!” But Zoe was frozen, staring at Sawyer, who had lied. Sawyer, who had schemed. Sawyer, who had broken her in ways that might never, ever mend.
“I was wrong,” she told him. “You’re exactly like your father.”
Then Zoe turned around. And jumped.
Screams followed in her wake, Russian curses and arching searchlights, but Zoe didn’t care about that. She just tried to protect her head as she fell.
Chapter Fifty-Five
Him
Sawyer looked into the darkness at the place where Zoe used to be. In his heart he was still reaching for her, grabbing for her, pulling her close and keeping her safe. But in his head, he was hoping she fell hard and fast and was already halfway down the mountain.
It was maybe the truest thing he’d ever told her—that everyone was safer far away from him.
The wind had picked up and snow swirled through the yellow beams of the Bentley’s headlights. The whole fucking world was swirling, and he thought he was going to be sick. Because Zoe was gone, dissolved in the darkness like she’d never been there at all.
“Your woman has heart,” Kozlov muttered, almost like he approved.
And Sawyer had to remember. “She’s not my woman.”
“If she is not dead, will she make trouble?” Kozlov asked, and Sawyer tried to keep a straight face. It was harder than it should have been because . . . Oh yeah. Zoe would make trouble.
He wanted to chase after her, beg with her, plead with her. He’d make her understand and—
“You fucking bitch!” Kozlov’s favorite henchman shouted. Sawyer heard the sickening crunch of fist meeting face, and he remembered . . .
Alex was still here . . . The drive was still here . . . His job was still here . . . And if he jumped, Kozlov’s guys would follow. Kozlov’s guys would find him, and if they found him, they’d find Zoe. And the truth was Zoe was the most naturally resourceful person he’d ever undercovered with. She’d be safer without him.
If she wasn’t unconscious . . .
If she wasn’t bleeding . . .
If she wasn’t broken . . .
If . . .
“I’ll go after her. Make sure she can’t cause any more trouble.” He was starting to jump. He was starting to fly, when Kozlov gave a shrug.
“We have this.” The old man held up the drive while his thugs threw Alex into the back seat of the Bentley. “Leave the blonde. She is nothing.”
Sawyer turned back to the abyss one last time, searching for any sign—any sound.
She is everything.
Chapter Fifty-Six
Her
Maybe she was knocked unconscious by the fall. Or maybe she just slept. Zoe didn’t know—didn’t exactly care. All she knew was that she dreamed. She must have. Because there were voices all around, floating through her mind like ghosts as she remembered—
Alex standing on the mountain, shouting, This isn’t one of your books, Zoe!
A man in a surgical mask and cartoon-covered scrubs covering her mouth. Can you count backward from one hundred for me?