by Kyla Stone
Reynoso faltered, looking disappointed. But he recovered quickly. “Bishop!” he yelled over the din of conversation, music, and laughter. “I need you!”
Bishop, who was still deep in conversation with Travis, half-turned. He wore a bright purple Hawaiian shirt covered with yellow pineapples. “What?”
Reynoso grinned and beckoned to Bishop. “Dance with me!”
Bishop handed the baby to Evelyn and winked. “With a proposal like that, how could I resist?”
Everyone laughed as the two burly men danced merrily, goofy as teenagers, knocking into each other and chortling when they stepped on each other’s feet.
When ABBA’s “Dancing Queen” burst from the speakers, others got up as well, including Dave and Annette. They moved to the music, basking in the sunshine and soaking in this rare moment of peace.
Her stomach fluttered. Her heart raced, her mouth dry, but it wasn’t water she craved.
Hannah turned to Liam and held out her hand. He laid Molly’s cane against a nearby camping chair and took a hesitant, cautious step.
And then the hesitation vanished, and he took her in his arms. She melted into him. They shuffled, awkward and clumsy at first, then they found their rhythm. They danced to the sound of Steve Perry’s iconic voice melding with the strumming guitar and lilting piano. I’m forever yours…
Liam took her hand and threaded his strong calloused fingers through her deformed ones. His hand closed over hers and held it. Gently, tenderly.
The song faded, and a familiar tune played next: U2’s “All I Want Is You.”
“Quinn’s grandpa had good taste,” Liam murmured into her hair. “I think he was a secret hopeless romantic.”
She felt herself smiling. “Are you?”
“I am now.”
He held her, and she held him. He was alive. She was alive.
They had more than they could’ve ever asked for.
After a while, Liam took a break and headed to the cooler for a glass of water, limping heavily but on his feet, moving with slow but dogged resolve.
Ghost trotted across the yard and pressed his snout against Liam’s side, his plumed tail gently wagging. They looked so regal, the two of them: wounded warriors. Every inch of them exuding strength, dignity, and valor.
Hannah watched him, the man she loved, something bright and glittering inside her chest. She stood back and surveyed Molly’s yard, taking in these people she loved.
Once, she’d been trapped, isolated, a victim. Now, she was part of a community. A survivor. A leader.
Sometimes the destruction of one thing could become the birth of another thing. New life, starting over, freedom.
In the middle of winter, with the scouring wind and brutal, shocking cold, you believed spring would never come. That spring had never existed in the first place. What else could possibly exist but this vast wasteland of snow and ice and darkness?
But that was a lie. It did exist. And it would come.
The sun returned, and beneath its nourishing warmth, the whole world opened up like a flower reaching for the sky.
You had to endure. You had to hold on. No matter what lay ahead, what challenges and hardships, she knew they would meet them.
They were a family.
They were together.
And, in the end, wasn’t that everything?
Liam glanced back at her over his shoulder. A slow open smile creased his features, his gray-blue eyes shining.
Hannah smiled back. And she lifted her face toward the sun.
I hope you enjoyed Edge of Valor, the epic conclusion to the Edge of Collapse survival series.
To receive an exclusive bonus chapter/epilogue in Hannah and Liam’s story, please join my newsletter. I’ll send the story to my subscribers in the next couple of weeks (to give people time to read Valor). This story is only for my subscribers and won’t be found anywhere else.
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To preorder my next series, Days of Ruin, get it on Amazon HERE.
If you knew the apocalypse was coming, what would you do?
I’ll have more updates on my next series in the next couple of months. Until then, please scroll to the next page for the Author’s Note and a list of my available books. Also, scroll past “About the Author” for a free preview of my completed post-apocalyptic series, Nuclear Dawn.
Author’s Note
Endings are bittersweet.
I admit, I shed a tear or two while writing a few scenes, particularly Quinn’s last scene when she fully comprehends what it means to be a warrior—how much it takes from you, how to live with the scars.
I hope you’ve enjoyed the Collapse series. I hope it’s everything you wanted it to be and more than you expected.
I have worried over these characters for a year and a half. They’ve lived in my head and whispered in the back of my mind. It’s hard to leave them, but I feel that it’s the right time.
They’ve overcome so much—I have faith that they can face whatever comes next. I hope that they will live on in your heart the same way that they do mine. The characters may not exist in real life, but the emotions they elicit in us are certainly real.
I appreciate my readers more than I can ever say. I cherish your emails, FB messages, and reviews. It is such a special thing to be able to share the world and characters populating my brain with others who get it and love them as much as I do.
I hope you stick around for my next series. While Hannah and Liam’s story may be over, I’m not finished with the post-apocalyptic worlds that we all love. I can’t wait to create new characters, new journeys, and new end-of-the-world scenarios.
Thank you so much for giving me the opportunity to share this world with you.
Until next time, Kyla
Acknowledgments
As I finish up this wonderful series, I want to give heartfelt thanks to the behind-the-scenes readers who give early feedback on the raw manuscript.
To my fabulous BETA readers: Fred Oelrich, Lauren Mae Nikkel, Melva Metivier, Wmh Cheryl, Jim Strawn, Sally Shupe, Jenny Avery, Jose Jaime Reynoso, Randy Hasting, Vanessa Mccutcheon, Elaine Bak, and Courtnee McGrew. Your thoughtful critiques and enthusiasm are invaluable.
To Michelle Browne for her line editing skills. Thank you to Joanna Niederer and Annette King for proofreading.
Special thanks to David Kepford for his technical support and excellent advice regarding all things military. It was a blast emailing questions and answers back and forth. I appreciate your patience!
Once again, a heartfelt thank you to George Hall, a real life Special Forces hero who helps me bring the character of Liam to life. Liam would not be who he is without George.
Any errors are my own.
Thank you to our armed forces who put their lives on the line to keep us safe and protect freedom around the world.
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. He is with us even in the darkest times.
And to my loyal readers, whose support and encouragement mean everything to me. Thank you.
Also by Kyla Stone
The Edge of Collapse Post-Apocalyptic Series (EMP):
Chaos Rising: The Prequel
Edge of Collapse
Edge of Madness
Edge of Darkness
Edge of Anarchy
Edge of Defiance
Edge of Survival
Edge of Valor
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
Audiobooks:
Nuclear Dawn series:
Point of Impact
Fear the Fallout
From the Ashes
Into the Fire
Darkest Night
Edge of Collapse series:
Chaos Rising
Edge of Collapse
Edge of Madness
Edge of Darkness
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 love to hear from my readers! Find my books and chat with me via any of the channels below:
www.KylaStone.com
www.Facebook.com/KylaStoneAuthor
www.Amazon.com/author/KylaStone
Email me at [email protected]
Nuclear Dawn Preview
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.
“I live near the west side of Chi-Town. Heading back tomorrow. Crazy, huh?” the guy said.
“What’s all the excitement about?” Dakota asked distractedly, forcing herself to be polite.
A low, frantic buzz filled her head.
Fear was already forming like ice around her heart.
She couldn’t just leave in the middle of her shift. She couldn’t afford to lose another job, but she had to contact Eden, had to figure out what to do.
“Some kind of bomb. Terrorist wackos, looks like. Probably ISIS. But Chicago PD caught it in time. Disarming it now, thank God.”
“Good thing,” she said.
He held his mug toward her. “Fill ’er up, would you?”
She grabbed the mug, refilled it at the bar, and returned it to the customer. He didn’t acknowledge her. His eyes were glued to the screen.
Her nerves were stretched taut. Anxiety squeezed her lungs. She needed a break. She needed to reach Eden.
She strode across the room and paused, keeping her back to the empty bar-height table behind her, the glass front door on her left, the bar counter several feet to her right.
The bar wasn’t busy yet. A handful of regulars hunched over their drinks, staring glassily at the second screen hung over the bar, showing the same view of the van in Chicago.
The steady buzz of their conversations was a constant hum in the background: Walter Monroe whining about his ex-wife; Jesse Peretti’s grass
kept dying from the increased water restrictions due to the drought; Tamara Santos complaining about more forced overtime.
Mendo Del Rio always brought up politics, especially when he was itching for a fight. The Beer Shack owner and current bartender, Julio de la Peña, had been forced to kick him out several times.
Most of the time, the regulars discussed sports and deep-sea fishing plans, crappy boss problems, and the latest indomitable heat wave.
They were all regular people with regular problems. No one was hunting them.
None of them paid any attention to her.
She jerked her cell out of her cargo pocket—an old model Samsung that barely qualified as a smartphone. It was all she could afford, since she put every extra penny toward her bug out fund.
As she tapped the contacts icon, she kept one anxious eye on the street outside, in case Maddox decided to double back. He was cunning like that.
Wanda Simpson, her sister’s social worker, picked up on the fourth ring.
Dakota didn’t waste time on greetings. “I need to see my sister. Now. Today.”
“Well,” the woman huffed. “I don’t have time for this nonsense today, Ms. Sloane. You know as well as I do that you have court-appointed, supervised visits once a month and no more. Your next visit isn’t for a week—”
“I can’t wait that long.”
“Ms. Sloane, your sister is medically fragile. She needs consistency. The judge, the psychologists, and I all agree that disrupting her carefully maintained routine would be detrimental to her well-being.”
“Which is just shrink-speak for trying to keep me from my sister so you can adopt her out—”
Mrs. Simpson sighed heavily into the phone.
Dakota could hear voices in the background. At the bar, someone turned the TV up even louder. She gritted her teeth, repressing everything she longed to say, pressed the cell to her ear, and turned away from the bar. “Look. It’s an emergency.”