Page 23 of Forest Reed
That earned me a smirk. “Yeah. He said you’d regret letting me live.”
Forest’s voice was calm steel. “We don’t regret it.”
We stepped inside, weapons up. The place was dark, with floorboards soft, and every corner held shadows. Old ranger maps peeled from the walls. Glass crunched under my boots.
Then I heard it—the faintesttick.
I froze. “Forest.”
He scanned fast, eyes narrowing. “Tripwire.”
I followed the line with my eyes—across the floor to a stack of crates marked with faded park service stencils. Only the stencils weren’t stencils anymore. Fresh paint. Fresh nails.
“This whole place is rigged,” I whispered.
Gray Jacket’s voice drifted from behind us. “You finally get it. The boss doesn’t want the mountain. He wantsyouchasing him. He wants to see if you’re worth the trouble.”
My skin went cold. “This is an audition?”
“Call it… recruitment,” Gray Jacket said. “Mr. North likes talent. He doesn’t mind breaking it in.”
Forest’s jaw ticked. “Not happening.”
The walkie in Gray Jacket’s hand crackled. North’s voice filled the air, smooth as glass. “Detective Brewer. I’ve seen your fire. Your wit. Your… loyalty. I admire it.” A pause. “But loyalty gets people killed. Consider this lesson one.”
ThetickI’d heard sped into a steady beep.
“Oh, hell,” I muttered. “It’s on a timer.”
Forest grabbed my arm, pulling me toward the back door. We slammed through into a hallway, the beeping chasing us. Smoke already leaked from the floorboards, acrid and sharp.
“Go!” he barked.
We hit the back exit and stumbled onto the porch. Behind us, the crates blew. The whole station shuddered, fire spitting through the roof as wood splintered. The blast knocked me down hard into the dirt. My ears rang, eyes burning.
Forest hauled me up, dust and heat rolling off him. His shirt was singed, hair full of soot, but his eyes were steady, fixed on me like I was the only thing that mattered.
“You okay?” he asked, gripping my shoulders.
I coughed, nodded. “Yeah. Just… add smoke inhalation to my workout routine.”
He huffed a laugh, short and rough, then pulled me in tight for half a second. His heartbeat thundered against mine. “Never do that again,” he muttered into my hair.
I pulled back, smirking even though my knees still shook. “You dragged me in here, remember?”
Before he could answer, Jason’s voice cut sharp over comms. “We saw the blast—status?”
“Alive,” I rasped. “Station’s gone. But North left us a love letter.”
I looked down at the ground where we’d fallen. Burned into the dirt by the blast, charred but deliberate, were two words scorched black:
MIRROR LAKE – AGAIN.
My stomach dropped. “He’s playing with us.”
Forest’s hand closed around mine, rough and sure. “Then we stop playing.”
18
