by Pam Eaton
At that moment, the driver slams on the gas and I can see Gregory yelling at the driver as they fade into the distance. My heart sinks. If he hadn’t betrayed us, he could have hopped in the back and opened the tailgate to let me in.
I’m still not alone, still being chased. All the anger I feel, the rage at being left behind in a foreign country. Ania’s death will not be in vain. I made her a promise.
I skid to a stop and turn at my chasers and scream into their faces. The Humvees stop dead in their tracks.
I will not go so easily. I will not be looked at like some helpless little girl by Gregory, Tony, or Mr. Smith. I. Am. Rebecca. Hunter. And I am extraordinary.
The world fades.
And as it focuses back in, I’m in the clearing in the woods near our cabin.
I fall to my knees and look up at the night sky looming overhead. I have no idea what time it is. The woods are quiet.
I did it. I was able to funnel all that rage and make the jump, but what to do now? I pull at my hair in frustration. Where do I go? Tony’s betrayed us, Ania sacrificed herself for me and this mission, and Gregory’s left me behind.
I take off my backpack and check the contents. The box is still safely inside and seems unharmed. I need shelter.
I head off toward the cabin. I know that Gregory and Tony won’t be there, but maybe someone else will be. Quickly, I’m at the front steps. The cabin is completely dark and quiet. So many memories here. Were any of them true? Can you fake the connection that Gregory and I have? Or was everything a lie? How many times am I going to have to ask myself these questions?
A sob threatens to break free, but I smother it. I can’t break now. Strength. I need strength.
I find an unlocked window and hop inside the cabin. I don’t dare make a phone call because I know that will signal to headquarters that I’m here. Do I want them to know I’m here? If Tony betrayed us, I should call Mr. Smith and let him know, but if he’s in on it, that could be disastrous for me.
I pace about the living room, not really sure what to do. Maybe if I knew what was in the black box, could help me make a better decision?
I take my bag off and place it on the floor. The box doesn’t seem too heavy, but that might not mean anything. I undo the unlocked latches on the case and slowly lift the lid. It’s like they wanted this to be stolen. A sick feeling fills my stomach and I scoot backwards. I shouldn’t have opened this. What did I just do?
A slip of paper sits in the box. So insignificant.
A sound escapes my throat, a tormented laugh. A bunch of letters and numbers that mean nothing to me. Ania died for this?
I march to the kitchen and pick up the house phone. I dial Mr. Smith’s direct line, which I was made to memorize. On the third ring it’s answered. “We’ve been betrayed,” I whisper into the phone, and then I hang up.
End of Book One
Acknowledgments
There are so many people I need to thank right now.
First and foremost, I’d like to thank my husband Nick, for loving me, supporting me, dealing my stress, and keeping the kids away as I tried to finish this.
Next, to my children. Thank you Mena, for being so excited that mom was writing book. And thank you Xander for being willing to just sit with my while I made these words come to life.
I need to thank my WeeWa girls: Sara, Kathy, Emily, Carrie, and Dena. Thank you for your advice, for telling me when things suck, and when they’re great. I couldn’t have asked for better friends who share the love of writing with me.
Kathy, thank you for proofreading for me, and answering my million questions.
Dee, thanks for being one of the first to read this.
To the wonderful writers of ANWA. This group holds a wealth of wisdom, and I get to take part of it.
To my editor Jana Miller. You helped me beyond measure with this book. Bet you can’t wait for the next one, huh?
My amazing cover designer, Molly Phipps, with We Got You Covered Book Design. You created such a beautiful cover, and I can’t wait to see what comes next.
I’d also like to thank some musicians that helped me find the right words: The Strumbellas, The Lumineers, Vance Joy, Birdie, and so many others. The music you create has greatly inspired my writing. Without your talent, I don’t think I could fully realize mine.
To my parents. You raised one seriously independent daughter. And I doubt I would have taken this on if you hadn’t. You filled our home with books and learning. And mom, I know you’re just as excited for this book as I am.
Finally, to the readers. Thank you for taking a chance on this book and me.
About the Author
Pam Eaton lives in the deserts of Arizona, but she’ll always consider herself a New Englander at heart. She graduated from Arizona State University with degrees involving education and history. While she loves history, it’ll always take a backseat to the fictional world she stumbled into as a young girl.
She lives with her husband, two kids (with one on the way), and two crazy, but lovable labs. It’s a chaotic life, but she wouldn’t have it any other way. Especially since they let her read an insane amount of books, and watch way too many Food Network shows.
You can find out more at Pam’s website
www.pameaton.com
[email protected]