by Stone, Kyla
Until she did. And then it was too late.
63
Hannah
Day Eight
“Gavin Pike,” Hannah said, the words like barbed wire on her tongue. “That’s his name.”
She felt Liam’s eyes on her. Piercing straight through to her core.
“He knows who I am.” Her heart clenched like a fist. She thought of Milo. Of Noah. Of Pike hurting them. “He knows my…my family. He lives in Fall Creek, too. He knows exactly where to go.”
Liam didn’t say anything. His expression was stony, unreadable.
“He…he killed CiCi.”
Liam cursed.
“She was a good person.” Fresh tears strangled the back of her throat. “She didn’t deserve what happened to her.”
“The good ones never do.”
“She helped us. She didn’t have to, but she did.”
“I know,” Liam said. Steel in his voice. Resolve. “I’m going to kill him. I promise you that.”
“Thank you,” she said simply. “For everything.”
It was all she had. She couldn’t pay him, couldn’t offer him anything but her gratitude. She hoped it was enough.
He didn’t speak for a long time. He stared at the barn doors, jaw tensed, his gun gripped in both hands. Like he wished Pike would come walking through those doors right now.
Absently, she rubbed her ruined hand. The swollen, twisted joints ached in the cold. Her fingers were deformed and ugly. She could barely move them, only with great effort. And pain.
Would Noah even want her back now? After what Pike had done to her? That night, she’d been so angry and resentful, but now she wondered why they’d fought at all.
It seemed so pointless, so meaningless. They’d loved each other. They’d had Milo.
They’d had everything and they didn’t even know it.
Liam cleared his throat and glanced back at her. “Let me see the gun.”
She went still. “What gun?”
He just stared at her.
Of course he knew about the pistol. She’d pointed it at him in the library. As if she could’ve done anything with it anyway. In her hands, it was as useless as a squirt gun.
“CiCi gave it to me,” she said, chagrined. “I should have told you.”
“Yes, you should have.”
She dropped her gaze, unable to meet his penetrating gray-blue eyes. Shame washed through her. “I’m useless with it anyway. I—I couldn’t even pull the trigger.”
He held out his hand, palm up. “Let me see it.”
She fished the .45 out of her pocket and gave it to him.
He turned it over in his hands, examining it. “It’s a good choice for you. Small and light. Reduced recoil. Well-balanced.”
He ejected the magazine, then pressed the slide back slightly to open the action and check the chamber. He frowned. “This weapon is loaded. Did you disengage the safety?”
“What?”
He slapped the magazine back in and pointed to a small slide-mounted lever. “You see this here? It’s the safety. Even when you squeeze the trigger, if the safety’s on, the gun won’t fire.”
Her cheeks grew hot. Her family had always used Glocks with a trigger safety. Forgetting the Ruger’s safety switch was a stupid mistake. In her panic, that knowledge had abandoned her, her mind retreating to what she’d always known.
“I’m sorry,” she said, feeling incredibly foolish.
He handed the weapon back to her, safety still on. “Do better next time.”
Relief mingled with her embarrassment. She had squeezed the trigger after all.
She’d had the guts to do it. To shoot him.
That’s what mattered. When the time came, she could do it again. She would do it again.
Liam zipped his pack and switched off the penlight. “Get some sleep. Dawn will come early.”
She placed the gun carefully in her pocket and laid back in the prickly straw. Ghost was sleeping. She rolled toward him and buried her fingers in his coat, inhaled the dank scent of him. Pressed her cheek against his soft fur and let her weary eyelids close.
But sleep didn’t come, no matter how exhausted she was. The night’s events wouldn’t stop circling inside her head, again and again. And every time, it ended the same—with Hannah paralyzed, impotent. Powerless.
Even with a weapon, she hadn’t been able to defend herself. Or Ghost.
Liam was here now, but he wouldn’t always be here. Ghost wouldn’t always be able to protect her. She would have to do some of the protecting, too.
She didn’t want to be helpless. Didn’t want to be afraid. And she didn’t want to be a victim. Not anymore.
Pike had done that to her. He’d changed her, molded her into the meek and cowering creature that he demanded. But she hadn’t always been that way.
Once, she’d been strong, opinionated, stubborn. Confident.
But then that terrible Christmas Eve happened. And everything that came after.
She didn’t have to be that girl anymore. The girl stolen from her own life. The girl locked in a cage.
Hannah Sheridan got to decide who she was, who she could become. It started right now.
She sat up. “Liam.”
He turned toward her. She couldn’t see his rugged features in the dark, only the solid shape of him, a shadow deeper and darker than the other shadows.
“You know how to fight,” she said. “How to defend yourself.”
He didn’t answer.
“You know how to use a gun.”
Still he said nothing, waiting.
“You can teach people what you know.”
“Is that a question?”
Her mouth twitched in the dark. Not a smile. Not yet. “Will you teach me?”
“Yes,” Liam said, “I will.”
The End
I hope you enjoyed Edge of Collapse! Don’t miss book #2, Edge of Madness!
A devastating EMP. No power. No communication. And no help...
On the five-year anniversary of his wife Hannah's disappearance, small-town cop Noah Sheridan takes his son Milo to a local ski resort for some much needed father-son time.
In a blink, the power grid goes out. Noah and Milo find themselves trapped on a chairlift thirty feet above the ground.
Help is not on the way. Night is coming, and with it the killing cold. Getting down before hypothermia sets in is only the beginning...
Order it now on Amazon HERE!
Want to know Liam Coleman’s backstory and what happened to him in Chicago? If you haven’t read the explosive prequel, Chaos Rising, you need to!
You can read it for free simply by joining my exclusive VIP mailing list (I hate spam and only email 1-2 times a month), and I’ll send you a copy as a thank you.
As a VIP member, you’ll have first access to exclusive sales, audiobook and ebook freebies, and all my new releases. You’ll also receive two of my books for free!
Join my VIP list HERE to get Chaos Rising now.
In a heartbeat, the world grinds to a halt...
On Christmas Eve, the lights go out. Vehicles stop working. Communications break down.
Reclusive ex-soldier Liam Coleman doesn't want to be anywhere near bustling downtown Chicago the day before Christmas. But his twin brother and his pregnant sister-in-law need him.
Mere minutes after leaving O'Hare, their car crashes, along with hundreds of other vehicles. When Liam's phone stops working, he suspects something more sinister than a local power outage. But before he can react, the first plane falls from the sky...
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Keep reading after the “About the Author” section for the first chapter of Point of Impact. The full series is available in ebook, paperback, and audiobook.
In a heartbeat, nuclear bombs ravage multiple U.S. cities. Millions flee the destruction. Surviving the blast is only the beginning…
Check it out HERE.
Author’s
Note
I hope you enjoyed Edge of Collapse! When I set out to write an EMP survival thriller, I knew I wanted to do something different. I had this idea in my head—could the grid going down be a positive thing for anyone?
I had this image of a locked door opening in my head. Who was behind that locked door? Why was she there? What could an unlocked door mean to her? Freedom? Salvation? And that, my friends, is how the character of Hannah was born.
In researching EMPs, I discovered a lot of conflicting information. The truth is, we have a lot of theories and ideas, but we don’t know for certain exactly how devastating an EMP would be. A lot depends on the size, strength, and height of the detonation. Would it be strong enough to take out phones? Radios? The electronic systems in our cars?
While I tried to be as accurate as possible, a little creative license is part of the fun of fiction. We get to imagine a world, put our characters inside it, and see what happens.
A little note on pregnancy. Every woman experiences it differently. I carried small and was active up until the week I was due. My best friend threw up the entire nine months. My cousin never had cravings. I couldn’t stop eating chocolate. Some of my friends glowed with energy through most of their pregnancies, others struggled to just get through each day. Hannah’s struggles are uniquely hers, just as every pregnancy is unique.
I hope you’ll continue to follow Hannah, Liam, and Ghost on their journey throughout the Edge of Collapse series.
Thank you for reading!
Also by Kyla Stone
The Edge of Collapse Post-Apocalyptic Series (EMP):
Chaos Rising: The Prequel
Edge of Collapse
Edge of Mayhem
Edge of Darkness
Edge of Despair
The Nuclear Dawn Post-Apocalyptic Series (Nuclear Terrorism):
Point of Impact
Fear the Fallout
From the Ashes
Into the Fire
Darkest Night
Nuclear Dawn: The Complete Series Box Set
The Last Sanctuary Post-Apocalyptic Series (Pandemic):
Rising Storm
Falling Stars
Burning Skies
Breaking World
Raging Light
Last Sanctuary: The Complete Series Box Set
No Safe Haven (A post-apocalyptic stand-alone novel):
No Safe Haven
Historical Fantasy:
Labyrinth of Shadows
Contemporary YA:
Beneath the Skin
Before You Break
Acknowledgments
Thank you as always to my awesome beta readers. Your thoughtful critiques and enthusiasm are invaluable. As I embark on a brand new series, your support and encouragement meant everything to me
Thank you so much to Fred Oelrich, Melva Metivier, Wmh Cheryl, Annette Cairl, Jessica Burland, Sally Shupe, Becca and Brendan Cross, Robert Odell, and to George Hall for his keen eye and military expertise.
To Michelle Browne for her line editing skills and Nadene Seiters for proofreading.
And a special thank you to Jenny Avery for catching those last pesky errors and for her genius with maps and geography.
Another special thank you goes to Rhonda Stapleton for the suggestion of CiCi as an elderly but tough gun-toting broad with a soft heart for a specific few. This idea inspired a memorable minor character who I ended up loving to pieces. May CiCi live on in our hearts forever.
To my husband, who takes care of the house, the kids, and the cooking when I’m under the gun with a writing deadline. To my kids, who show me the true meaning of love every day and continually inspire me.
Thanks to God for His many blessings.
And to my loyal readers, whose support and encouragement mean everything to me. Thank you.
About the Author
I spend my days writing apocalyptic and dystopian fiction novels, exploring all the different ways the world might end.
I love writing stories exploring how ordinary people cope with extraordinary circumstances, especially situations where the normal comforts, conveniences, and rules are stripped away.
My favorite stories to read and write deal with characters struggling with inner demons who learn to face and overcome their fears, launching their transformation into the strong, brave warrior they were meant to become.
Some of my favorite books include The Road, The Passage, Hunger Games, and Ready Player One. My favorite movies are The Lord of the Rings and Gladiator.
Give me a good story in any form and I’m happy.
Oh, and add in a cool fall evening in front of a crackling fire, nestled on the couch with a fuzzy blanket, a book in one hand and a hot mocha latte in the other (or dark chocolate!): that’s my heaven.
I mean, I won’t say no to hiking to mountain waterfalls, traveling to far-flung locations, or jumping out of a plane (parachute included) either.
I love to hear from my readers! Find my books and chat with me via any of the channels below:
www.Facebook.com/KylaStoneAuthor
www.Amazon.com/author/KylaStone
Email me at [email protected]
Or join Kyla Stone’s Reader Fan Group HERE!
Point of Impact: Chapter One
Dakota Sloane was no stranger to hardship. A born survivor, she’d spent her life waiting for the next calamity, the next disappointment, the next strike from a world intent on breaking her.
But Dakota didn’t break.
She felt close now, though. Her chest tightened as she scanned the street outside the window of the Beer Shack Bar.
A damp rag in one hand, she froze, bent over a yellow table strewn with crumpled napkins and a greasy, half-eaten lunch of twist fries, burgers, and globs of ketchup.
Her gaze locked on a familiar figure striding through the lunchtime crowd strolling along Front Street in Overtown along the outskirts of downtown Miami.
She knew that confident, purposeful walk, the lean, lanky shape of him, sharp as a knife blade. She’d recognize that thin, angular face anywhere, those grim, fevered eyes—the eyes that haunted her nightmares.
He wasn’t supposed to be there.
Dakota didn’t believe in coincidences.
If Maddox Cage was in Miami—in this part of Miami—it was for one reason.
He was here for her. For her and Eden.
She’d made it two years and thirteen days. She wasn’t ready yet, hadn’t saved enough. Six more months and her plan would be in place, ready for execution.
Five grand and her little sister. That was all she needed to start a brand-new life a thousand miles away.
Miami was loud and colorful and always moving, made up of a jumble of Cubans, Haitians, Asians, South Americans, and Anglos, an exuberant smorgasbord of cultures, music, food, and art.
Miami was an easy city to get lost in.
But she hadn’t gotten lost enough.
Sweat prickled along her hairline. She took a step back from the window, hoping the sunlight’s glare on the glass would shield her presence.
Maybe he only had a general idea of their location. If he was still searching, if he didn’t already know exactly where she was…
But maybe he wasn’t coming for her first. The thought sent a cold fission of dread through her gut.
He was going after Eden.
She held her breath until he passed—never turning his head to the left or right, eyes fixed straight ahead as he weaved between the pedestrians thronging the sidewalk.
He always had been single-minded, like a dog with a bone.
She should’ve known he wouldn’t let go. Would never let go.
She leaned over the table to get a better view of the street. Maddox Cage paused at the corner and waved down a taxi. Dakota didn’t move until he slipped inside, shut the door, and the car pulled away from the curb.
“Excuse me, Miss,” said a heavy, middle-aged Indian guy at the next booth.
She didn’t know
him. The usual regulars haunted their favorite bar stools, but this close to downtown and Miami International, the bar always served a steady stream of tourists and traveling business types.
People liked the Beer Shack’s funky vibe. The bar was lined with kitschy shiny yellow tables and elephant palms in huge ceramic planters adorned with fairy lights.
Famous locations throughout Miami—South Beach, Freedom Tower, the Coral Castle Museum—were immortalized in bottle cap art hung on the faux brick walls.
The radio was always playing a vibrant mix of rumba, salsa, timba. The mix of authentic Cuban fare and classic American selections was damn good, too.
With his sweating mug of Sam Adams, the man gestured toward the flat-screen against the far wall. He was in his fifties and nearly bald, a neatly combed circle of white hair ringing his shiny brown scalp. “Can you turn that up?”
“Sure thing.” She forced herself to move, to go through the motions, even as her mind spun with jostling, frantic thoughts.
She put the Coke glass down on the dirty table she’d been cleaning, leaving the plastic tub and rag behind. She pulled the remote from her moss-green apron and punched up the volume.
The Marlins’ loss recap had been interrupted. The screen showed an aerial shot of Michigan Avenue in Chicago, completely cleared but for a minivan parked on the street.
Several police cars and SWAT vehicles were stationed a safe distance away, three helicopters hovering overhead.
A breathless, wide-eyed news reporter gesticulated wildly about something. She couldn’t make sense of the woman’s jumble of words.