Page 25 of Deadfall

Sacha shoved his hands into his pockets. “Cole?” He asked carefully.

“My twin.”

Sacha’s face was deliberately expressionless, which oddly gave me the strength to continue.

“We used to pick out the tree together.” I rubbed a nearby branch through my fingers to avoid looking at him. “He always had to make sure it was symmetrical.” I smiled sadly. “I only cared about the side we decorated but he was—very particular.” My vision blurred. “I miss him,” I whispered.

I turned away, not wanting to cry in front of Sacha. It felt good to say Cole’s name out loud though. Ever since I’d had my breakdown while Sacha was gone, I’d slowly allowed myself room to remember the good times. I didn’t want to forget about the people I loved, and the only way to do that was by feeling everything those memories evoked. Besides, when I spoke his name out loud, it felt like I was validating that he existed. That felt important.

I dashed a gloved hand across my face and composed myself. I didn’t want to ruin this or make Sacha regret agreeing to help me. I walked over to one of the trees I’d previously inspected.

“That one,” I declared firmly, hiding the emotion in my voice.

I turned to grab the ax, convinced Sacha would make me cut it down, but he stepped past me with it in hand. Sacha easily chopped down the tree and I helped him load it onto the sled.

We got back to the house and together wrestled the tree inside and into the corner by the bookshelf. I stood back. The tree dripped melted snow onto the floor and the only stand we had was a bucket, but I thought it was perfect. Sacha disappeared upstairs and returned with a box he set down at my feet. I saw the glitter of ornaments and looked at him in surprise.

“Go workout,” he said gruffly. “I’ll take care of the wood pile.”

I’d never rushed through a workout so fast in my life. Once I’d showered and changed, I dug through the box of ornaments. It wasn’t much—they were obviously very old, and there weren’t even any lights, but I didn’t care. I used every single one. When I was done I stood back to admire my work and accidentally hit the box with my foot. I looked down and saw an old metal tree topper in the shape of a star. I picked it up and as I turned it over in my hands, my thoughts once more went to Cole.

We’d always fought over who got to put the star on top.

If you were here, I’d let you do it.

Grief swamped me. There would be no more family Christmases—no more baking Christmas cookies with my mom or putting up the lights with my Dad. Cole would never pick out another Christmas tree and we would never fight over the ornaments while drinking hot chocolate with those mini marshmallows we both loved. Those days were over—it was just me, alone.

I heard the scrape of wood across the floor and turned to see Sacha drag a chair over.

Well, maybe not completely alone.

I stepped up on the chair, while Sacha held the back of it steady and I placed the star on top. Despite my sadness over the past, a small smile took over my face. Cole would be mad if he saw me frowning at a Christmas tree.

I glanced at Sacha out of the corner of my eye and saw him staring at the star too, a similar far away look of grief on his face. It hit me then that maybe he also had lost people he loved.

I stepped down from the chair and touched a branch. I crushed it between my fingers and let the pine scent engulf me while I whispered a quiet Merry Christmas to everyone we’d left behind, and an equally quiet thank you that maybe I wasn’t as alone as I thought.

14

EMERSYN

Present Day

I fought to hold onto the pine scent of that memory as long as I could, but it disappeared rapidly when my senses picked up something much more important—footsteps. A faint glow illuminated what was previously cast in darkness. It was as grim as I imagined. As the light grew stronger, I could see I was in a small stone cell with bars on the front. Everything was damp and the entirety of it felt very medieval. That illusion was squashed with the arrival of two guards who held assault rifles and were dressed in modern fatigues. Both guards had their face coverings pulled up over their noses, but I could see the leer on their faces as their eyes swept over me.

The smaller one whistled. “You were right, Brooks, she is a beauty.”

The taller man, Brooks, grunted and pulled a set of ornate keys from his belt. “And deadly. Or at least that’s according to Quarry.”

The man scoffed and slid his gaze over me again, slower. “This little thing?”

I stared at him flatly—he wasn’t exactly one to talk. Brooks unlocked the cell and the other one stepped through.

“Yup. He nicknamed her the Hurricane,” Brooks said.

“Huh. I wonder why.”

I tilted my head and my lips twitched in an almost smirk. “Come undo these cuffs. I’ll show you.”