Page 110 of Shadow

She’d heard it as she’d floored it past the death drop where, in her rearview mirror, she’d seen Asher bail out of the SUV.

She’d barely been able to breathe.

Watched Asher get to his feet. Alive.

Then the explosion shook the air, fire blooming. Black smoke rising. Perfect detonation. Perfect timing. Bam. Mission accomplished.

And then Dmitri had pulled up, and she’d just kept driving.

Stuck to the plan.

But her heart had filled her throat until she’d reached a turnaround lip in the road.

Floored it back.

And then the shot—and in that terrible moment, she’d realized…

No way was she going to win at this compartmentalization game. Not with her hands shaking on the steering wheel. Not with the way that made her heart pound and her breath catch and her mind scream No! No! Please!

But that had been thirty minutes ago. Before she’d found him alive yet bloody—what else did she expect?—and standing over his informant’s body.

Before he’d gotten in the car beside her, a little shell-shocked, his hands on his knees, just breathing.

But alive.

She needed to think about the operation. About what came next.

But she couldn’t ignore the terrible relief in her chest, the way it pushed heat into her eyes.

Now, driving through mountains with the afternoon sun painting everything gold and shadows lengthening across asphalt, Daphne kept glancing at Asher.

He sat silent in the passenger seat, staring out the window at passing pine trees and rocky outcroppings and valleys stretching into the distance. His right hand pressed against his ribs where the stitches were. His jaw set. His expression closed.

He hadn’t said ten words since getting in the SUV.

Not about the blood on his jacket or the way he held his ribs or the fact that he’d just killed a man and staged a death and destroyed evidence.

Just silence.

She’d even take a So, that was fun, sugar nugget.

But he just continued to stare and didn’t speak. Wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“You okay?” Daphne asked.

“Fine.”

“Your ribs?”

“Fine.”

“Asher—”

“I’m fine, Daphne. Just—” He stopped. Breathed. “Just drive.”

She drove.

The highway climbed. Steep grades. Switchbacks. Mountains rising on both sides. Aspen trees turning gold in November light. Pine forests thick and dark.