Page 2 of Rescued By the Alpha SEAL
SLOANE
I’m running out of places to hide, and I’m running out of time.
“Sloane, they’re coming. They found—” The call cuts off, static replacing his voice in a cruel twist.
“Hello? Hello?!”
And when I try calling back, nothing.
He’s dead.
My source is dead.
My breath hitches as I check my burner phone again. No signal. The thick trees and mountains are most likely jamming my call.
Or maybe, someone’s doing it. Either way, I can’t stop now. Not when they’re coming.
Heavy snow swirls outside the car, thick flakes battering the windshield.
But just before I think that something is, at the very least, working out, the car sputters, its engine letting out a dismal, pitiful wheeze.
Shit.
“Come on, come on,” I mutter, urgency making my voice tremble as I crank the key again.
The engine clicks and whimpers before sinking into an ominous silence.
Montana in February isn’t just cold; it’s suffocating.
Pine trees, towering and ancient, stand like sentinels—silent witnesses to my desperation—each branch bowing under the weight of fresh snow, their dark trunks reaching into the gloom like skeletal fingers clawing at the gray.
My hands shake as I yank the key from the ignition and shove it into my pocket.
Six days, four stolen cars, three discarded phones, and no sleep have left me running on fumes.
A part of me wants to give in.
Just lie my head on the steering wheel and just… stop.
But that kind of thinking gets people killed.
As I frantically figure out what to do next, alarm hits me when I glimpse the rearview mirror.
Headlights. Distant, but gaining.
Breathe, Sloane. Think!
I scramble, throwing open my messenger bag, heart racing as I shove in my nearly-dead laptop, the useless phone, and the corrupted thumb drive.
The drive died halfway through decryption, leaving me with just fragments — names, locations, casualty reports from something called “Blackout.”
My source downloaded it all before they silenced him. Before they found me.
Cold air bites at my face when I step outside, the wind ripping through my meager layers like they’re nothing but paper.Should’ve stolen a better coat, I chide myself, panic spiraling as I fight off freezing anxiety.
The headlights grow larger. No time for regrets.
I plunge into the dense trees alongside the road, boots crunching through the snow.
