But this girl is far, far beyond any kind of crazy I’m used to dealing with. She’s gone, man. Gone.

And yet I walk to the garage where my snow machine is. I’m gonna go get her ass. I’m gonna give this one more shot before I give up. I’m gonna suck in my pride and bring her back.

Because this is it. Eight years have passed since we took down the Company. Eight years since Harper was freed, Nick was taken into the jungle never to be seen again, and James quit being one of the hunters.

I am so filled with envy for that guy. How does he get to walk away? How does he sleep at night knowing we never figured out the final puzzle? How do I live with myself if I don’t finish the job?

I can’t.

I can’t live with myself. Because I know it’s not over. And there’s only one target left.

Not me. Fuck, if this was just about me, I’d be out. Just like James.

This is all about Sasha. And they’re still coming for her, I know it. She knows too much. She’s seen too much. And even though her father did his best and her mother gave up her life to protect her from this shit—she didn’t escape her fate.

She just postponed it.

“She lost her mind in the dark that night. But she carried that seed of hope like it was gold.”

– Case

Even though it’s been fifteen minutes tops since Sydney took off on foot, her bootprints have all but disappeared. It’s not really snowing, but the wind is blowing, and that’s all it takes to cover up her tracks.

Still, I have a snow machine with a headlight. So she cannot have gotten far enough away to avoid me.

I tell myself that, anyway. Because while I have my suspicions about Sydney Channing’s many talents, I’ve really never seen them in action. Tonight on the stairs was just a sample, of that I’m sure. Garrett made her do his dirty work. I watched her approach people. Women. No, I laugh. Not women. Women are too smart. Girls. He needs them weak and dumb. He needs them helpless and scared to get them to participate in his sick sexual fantasies. Sydney was part of his trap. She looks innocent and sweet. She looks vulnerable and honest.

But she is none of those things.

And she knows what she’s doing out here too. They spent a lot of time in the woods. But the secret to success in the snow is a shovel. A shovel can save your life out here. Dig a hole in the snow and make a shelter that hides you from predators and keeps you warmer than you ever thought possible when surrounded by ice. And she does not have one.

I go slow as I enter the woods, concentrating on what’s left of her footprints. This goes on for a hundred yards or so, and that’s when the doubts start creeping in. No way did she get this far on foot.

The trail is still lit up from the stars and the moon. The white snow is the perfect reflection, making it almost bright. But on either side are the woods. And they are very dark.

I turn the machine around and backtrack. I’ve covered up her trail, so that’s no good. I cut the engine and sigh into the night. The wind is chilling and I’m not dressed for this. I just want to go home and forget this stupid girl. This stupid life. This stupid bullshit with these stupid fucking people.

God, how awful to grow up with these people.

The Company is not a corporation. It’s not a business. It’s a secret shadow world government with thousands of people in very high places. Think world leaders, billionaires, mega-charities, religious leaders, manufacturing, healthcare, water treatment—hell, space exploration, these days. Those are the kind of people who work for the Company. It’s like the Mob, only bigger.

Or it was.

James is a former Company assassin who fell in love with the Company princess, Harper. Sasha was the Company mistake. Raised by her father, a former Company assassin trainer, to shoot straight, think clear, and listen carefully, she is the only living member of the Company who knows certain secrets.

The problem is, Sasha doesn’t know she knows these things until something jogs her memory. Like we’re on the road in the Mojave Desert and we stop at a restaurant-slash-seedy hotel. Sasha pops off an offhanded comment like, “Yeah, the guy who lives up in room 17, he’s a Company asset. My dad and I used to come here for—” Whatever. It doesn’t matter who they were, the fact that she spent her childhood rambling around in an RV with her father as he did his Company business puts her squarely into the needs-to-be-eliminated category.

Or—and this is the part that terrifies me—the needs-to-be-activated category. Because that’s what these people do with the girls. They brainwash them. They use them. Just like Garrett used Sydney.

I place my hands on the front of the snow machine and drop my head into them. I’m so tired of thinking about this shit. Why? Why do I have to spend my life chasing these assholes down? Why do I have to care? James and Harper don’t seem to give a shit. Sasha doesn’t give a shit anymore, either. She went to live a new life after we killed all those Company people. And since I convinced her a few years ago that things were OK, she never brings it up. Ever.

But me? No, this is all I’ve thought about since I met the kid eight years ago. I can’t take it anymore. Why? Why do I have to be the guy who gives a shit?

Because, asshole. She’s the little sister you never had. She’s the only family you really got, man. She’s the only one who counts.

I lift my head and sigh again. “Sydney!” I yell. “Where the fuck are you?”

I need her. I hate this so much. But I have to admit it. I need her.

I get off the machine and walk on foot, backtracking the way I came, searching the darkness of the trees on either side. I have no gun, no flashlight, and if the wolves decide to show up, I’m fucked. And so is Sydney.

So I turn around and walk back up to where I stopped the machine earlier. She’s got to be here. It’s a long distance to cover in the fifteen-minute headstart she got on me. But she has to be here.

I spot what’s left of a footprint going off into the woods on the right of the trail, and follow it in and find more. They get clearer the deeper they go. Less wind in here. “Sydney!” I call again. I move on in the direction of the prints and I’m just about to yell again when I see her. She’s sitting down on the ground, her white coat and snow pants a stark contrast to the dark bark of the massive pine tree she’s leaning up against. “What the fuck are you doing? Let’s go. You’re not staying out here. If you want a ride up to your truck, I’ll take you in the morning.”

She sits still, looking down at something in her hands. I squint at them, trying to see what she has. And I have a little moment of panic thinking she has a weapon or some secret Company shit.

But she doesn’t. It’s an acorn. I stuffed it in the pocket of the coat she’s wearing before I left the little cabin, just trying to get rid of her and everything she represents. She’s twirling it in her fingers, staring at it like it’s important. “You know why I keep the acorn, Case?”

I cross the distance between us and grab her by the arm, pulling her to her feet. “Good luck?” I venture, tugging her a little, to get her feet started. She gives in without a fight and walks, so I let her arm go.

“No,” she says. “That’s not why.” And then she laughs. But she’s still walking. I stop for a moment and let her pass me, so I can keep an eye on her from behind. This girl makes me nervous. She’s not entirely sane. And she’s dangerous in ways I’m still not sure of yet.

“Why then?” I ask, more to take my mind off how I will get this girl to give up the information I need.