The mountain pass was a jagged ribbon of ice and shadow. Blue and red lights bled through the falling snow, painting the white world in flashes of chaos. The police had blocked the highway, their cruisers angled like iron teeth in the road.
Elara hit the brakes, the car skidding, spinning, and slamming into a snowbank. The engine choked and died. She didn't think; she bolted. She scrambled out of the driver's side, her coat flapping in the freezing wind, her eyes wild, searching for a path that didn't exist, leaving Seren in the car.
"Elara Langford! Stop! Hands where we can see them!"
The command tore through the air, but Elara only ran harder. She was a woman possessed, driven by the echoes of her own failures. She reached the edge of a guardrail, her boots slipping on the frozen pavement.
Pop. Pop.
