Page 29 of Keeper of Talon Mountain
10
GABE
The descent takes longer than the climb.
Darkness is complete now, only starlight to navigate by, and my body protests every movement. The conversation with Crane replays in my head on an endless loop—his threats, his revelations, the photograph of Mara that proved how thoroughly they've infiltrated our lives.
Seventy-two hours. Three days to remember something my own mind won't let me access.
My phone vibrates again. Another message from the unknown number:
She's beautiful when she's scared. Try not to take too long.
The photo shows Mara at the window. Recent. Maybe minutes ago.
My boot slips on ice and I slam into a tree trunk, ribs screaming in protest. The pain clears my head, focuses me. Getting killed on this mountain won't help anyone.
Slowing down helps. Testing each foothold. Using the techniques my body remembers even if my mind doesn't. Move with purpose, not speed. The cold seeps through my jacket but the exertion keeps me warm enough. Barely.
More memories surface as I descend—not the critical ones about the files, but fragments of my life before. Training exercises. Mission briefs. The camaraderie of the unit before I realized what we'd become. And one memory that keeps recurring: a woman's face, terrified, begging. My own hands steady on a weapon. Crane's voice saying "Execute the target."
Her name was Louise Shrake. Thirty-five years old. Journalist investigating arms deals. I pulled the trigger because I was told to.
That was the moment. The moment I knew I couldn't do that anymore.
The memory won't let go as I navigate the final steep section down to flatter terrain. Louise Shrake. I can see the lodge now, lights off, curtains drawn. Mara is in there waiting, not knowing if I'm alive or dead.
The tree line gives way to open ground. The front door opens before I reach it.
Mara stands there, rifle lowered but still in her hands. Her face is pale, eyes red-rimmed. Behind her, Zara has the shotgun.
"You're alive," Mara says, and her voice breaks on the words.
"I'm alive."
She's on me in an instant, the rifle clattering to the floor as she wraps her arms around me hard enough to make my ribs protest. I hold her just as tightly, feeling her heart pound against my chest, feeling the tremor in her body.
"He called," she says against my chest. "Crane. He threatened the whole town. Said we have seventy-two hours."
"I know. He told me the same thing." I pull back enough to look at her face. Her jaw is set. Her eyes don't waver. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I brought this to your door."
"Don't." Her voice is fierce. "Don't apologize for being in danger. Just tell me what we do now."
Zara closes the door, locks it, checks the security system. "Did you learn anything up there?"
"Some." The window draws me, but I stay back from the glass. "They're watching the lodge. Thermal imaging, probably satellite surveillance. We can't leave without them knowing."
"Can you remember where the files are?" Mara asks.
The question I've been dreading. "No. But I remember why I hid them. And I think... I think I set up a failsafe. Crane claimed I did this to myself. That I set up some kind of psychological trigger that would cause the amnesia if I was captured. To protect the information."
Zara's eyes narrow. "Is that even possible?"
"I don't know. But if it's true..." The implications spin out. "Then forcing the memories might not work. They might be locked behind safeguards I built specifically to resist interrogation."
The thought feels right. Solid.
"Then we figure it out." Mara's voice is calm, steady. "We have seventy-two hours. We use them."
