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Brooklyn Sloane

June 2025

Thursday — 1:17 am

T he weight of uncertainty pressed against Brook's chest with each labored breath. Russell and Jacob had disappeared through the fractured floor of the ice cave—swallowed by darkness with a sound that would haunt her dreams for years to come. That sickening crack, followed by Russell's startled shout, cut short as both men plummeted into the unknown depths of the mountain.

She and Victor had spent close to thirty minutes searching for a viable path down the vertical shaft. They had inched along the rim of the jagged hole, flashlights aimed into the void, calling out for Russell until their voices had grown hoarse. The beams had illuminated nothing but slick, gleaming walls of ice descending into impenetrable blackness. No rope in their packs could reach that far, and no foothold or ledge had presented itself as a potential route.

Brook and Victor had done the mental calculations. Even if they had the tools necessary to lower themselves, they hadn’t been able to get a sense of the depth. Any improvised line could have fallen catastrophically short. And the structural integrity of the remaining ice—the very ground beneath their feet—had remained suspect.

One wrong move, one misplaced step, and they could have easily joined the two men in the depths of the darkness.

They had both agreed that a proper rescue team was needed, and they were just wasting time. After explaining that Jacob had marked the correct passageways, Victor now walked a few paces ahead of her. His stride was long, and his steps were quick.The faster they reached their destination, the quicker a rescue team could be sent in to locate Russell and Jacob.

“It should have been me standing next to him.” Victor had muttered the words aloud, but they still bounced off the icy walls. “If I had?—”

“Hypothetical scenarios won't help Russell or get us out of here.”

Victor stopped, turning around abruptly to meet her gaze.

“Jacob was my responsibility.”

“And he is my brother.” The words emerged sharper than Brook had intended. "Victor, I knew from the moment Jacob made the plea deal that he had something planned. I might have been reluctant at first, but it was me who ended up pushing for this.”

Brook swallowed hard as Kate’s beautiful face emerged in her mind.

“Every single detail that I put into place led to the death of a very good...” Brook paused, the word 'agent' hovering on her lips before truth demanded its due. “Friend.”

Brook stopped talking when an array of emotions surged up her throat, threatening to escape in a sound she couldn't afford to make.

Not here.

Not now.

The bag in her hand had gotten incredibly heavy. She forced her fingers to release the nylon handle. The thud as the bag hit the ground was oddly distant to her ears.

She pressed her gloved hands against her face, pushing firmly against her eyes in a futile attempt to hold back the overwhelming flood of grief. The gloves, made of synthetic material, were cold and rigid against her skin. The irritating sensation suited her just fine. Comfort wasn’t her goal. What she craved right now was control.

Brook sensed more than heard Victor reach for her.

“Don't.” She heard him back up a few steps, following her directive. “I'm fine. Just...give me a minute.”

Brook forced herself to breathe deeply, methodically, as she had done countless times under the direction of Dr. Swift. In through the nose, count to four. Hold for seven. Out through the mouth for eight.

Mercifully, the rhythm brought her a semblance of order.

Regrettably, clearing her emotions brought to the surface unanswered questions.

Was Russell still alive down there, injured and waiting for rescue? Or had the fall claimed his life instantly, his last act in this world the attempted containment of a killer?

If Russell were here with her at this very moment, she had no doubt he would have assured her that he had understood the stakes involved with this trip. He would have reminded her that he had accepted those risks the day that he had joined the academy. He would have emphasized that taking Jacob off the board had been his final play, and there were far worse ways to close out a career.

She wouldn't mourn her brother’s death.

That grief had been processed long ago, when she had firsthand knowledge of the evil that pumped through his veins. When he stood near Sally’s body in the middle of the cornfield with blood still dripping from the blade of his knife.

No, Jacob's death wouldn't register as a loss. But his survival—that was a terror she could barely contemplate. Russell's sacrifice would be in vain, leaving Jacob to once again be free in the world. His presence, near or far, would be a cancer spreading through her life, metastasizing into every relationship, every moment of peace…just like before.

Brook lowered her hands from her face, flexing her fingers that had grown stiff within the gloves.

Time.

It always came down to time.

Tick-tock.

Like a metronome, measuring out the distance between events.

Between choices.

Between who she had been and who she was becoming.

Brook had spent the majority of her life trying to fix things—to make amends for her brother's actions, to prevent others from suffering as his victims had. Time had been her ally in that endeavor, giving her the opportunity to build a life dedicated to justice. To establish S&E Investigations. To create a team that had become family.

But time was also merciless.

It eroded certainties, revealed new threats, and opened old wounds.

If Jacob survived that fall, he would use whatever time remained to him to continue his perverse mission. And Brook would use hers to stop him—but in a different way now.

There would be no more sacrifices. No more putting herself in harm's way out of some misplaced sense of responsibility for Jacob's actions. Kate, Russell, all the other victims—they deserved a fighter who valued her own life enough to battle effectively.

She would honor the dead by living purposefully, not by joining them in martyrdom.

“I’m ready,” Brook called out to Victor.

She bent down and retrieved the bag, adjusting the weight in her grip. The physical burden seemed lighter now, counterbalanced by her decision to take a different mindset.

It was either adapt or go truly insane.

Another five minutes passed before Victor slowed his pace. He came to a complete stop in front of her, so she had to shift to the side to determine what had caught his attention. There was a distinct glow of artificial light bleeding around the corner ahead, cutting through the primal darkness that had been their only companion for hours.

“This is where Jacob wanted to bring me,” Brook murmured, grateful that her team had taken care of Sally in her absence. “Lead the way.”

Victor didn’t hesitate, and he advanced forward with the intention of securing a rescue team for Russell. As they rounded the corner, powerful floodlights on tripods could be observed in the distance. They bathed the expanded chamber in clinical brightness, highlighting silhouettes of those she assumed to still be processing the scene.

In the distance, she heard someone shout a notification of movement. Adrenaline spiked in her system, allowing for a temporary reprieve from the exhaustion, upon the realization that those silhouettes didn’t belong to a forensics team.

Her team was waiting for them.

Theo, Sylvie, and Bit moved all at once, but it was Graham who covered the remaining ground between them with long, purposeful strides. The passageway narrowed to his approaching figure, everything else receding into a peripheral blur.

He didn't slow as he reached her, didn't stop to assess or question.

Instead, his arms enfolded her in a single fluid motion, pulling her against the solid warmth of his chest. She dropped the bag and yielded to his embrace while circling her arms around his waist. Her forehead pressed against his shoulder, and she inhaled the familiar scent of him—a trace of the sandalwood soap he favored in the morning.

The contact grounded her, anchoring her to the present moment in a way nothing else could. He didn't speak immediately, didn't pepper her with the questions that must have been crowding his mind. He simply held her, his breathing steady against her cheek.

In the background, she was dimly aware of Victor briefing the others on the situation. No one would be leaving this mountain anytime soon.

“…fell into a vertical shaft. No way to determine the depth or if either survived the fall. We tried to…”

The rest of Victor’s explanation faded beneath the sound of Graham's heartbeat against her ear, steady and reassuring.

He was life.

He was safety.

He was the future she had promised herself she would fight for.

Gradually, Graham loosened his hold, pulling back just enough to examine her face. His gaze took her in with methodical care, cataloging every scratch, every smudge of dirt, every line of exhaustion. She understood how his mind worked in times like these.

His hands, warm even through her cold-stiffened clothes, shifted up her arms to cradle her face. He stared into her eyes with an intensity that stole her breath.

“I'm fine,” Brook exclaimed automatically, her reflexive response causing him to shake his head. She tried to reassure him again. “I?—”

“I don't doubt that for a second.”

Graham’s reply confused her.

If he believed her assurance, why the continued scrutiny?

“Your mom? Is she okay? Did the surgery go as?—”

“I left my mother in Arden’s capable hands.” Graham lifted the corner of his lip in amusement. “I’m sure I’ll hear about that when we arrive home. Right now, let’s assemble a rescue team for Russell. We’ll get you warmed up, and then?—"

“Graham, I’m the one who asked Russell to go ahead of me.” Brook would have loved to stay in his warm embrace longer than those few seconds, but they had a job to do. She also needed to follow her own advice and avoid going down the ‘what-if’ rabbit hole. Doing so wouldn’t help their situation. “We need to alert Nathaniel and the Bureau that there is a possibility Jacob has escaped federal custody. Until we know what we’re dealing with down there, we need to assume the worst.”

“We had some members of the Alaska Mountain Rescue Group join us on this side of the mountain.”

Graham shifted to give her a better view of the chamber behind him. A ladder led up to what Brook assumed was the log cabin where Jacob had stayed many years ago. Theo was conversing with someone over satellite radio from the third rung, though he remained visible.

Victor was discussing specific details about the collapse of the ice floor with Sylvie, Bit, and two other men in red jackets. As much as it pained Brook to admit, the best thing she and the others could do for Russell was to allow the experts to do their jobs.

“Bit and I had a feeling that you would choose movement over staying in place, especially given that Jacob wanted you in this ice cave in the first place.”

“He marked the passageways, Graham.”

Brook wasn’t surprised in the least by Jacob’s forethought all those years ago. He planned for every single contingency. He thrived on it.

“We’ll join the others. I’m sure Victor has already informed the others of the markings, but that will help the?—”

“Wait.” Brook reached for his hand, tightened her grip, and pulled him back before he could put too much distance between them. Something was still bothering her. “What were you…”

Graham brought both hands up to cradle her face just like before. His thumbs brushed across her cheekbones with exquisite gentleness, as if she were made of something infinitely precious and fragile.

He only ever touched her in this manner in private.

“I was searching for something. I needed to see if it was still there after today.”

“What was that?” Brook whispered, suddenly acutely aware of how exposed they were to the others.

“Our future,” Graham replied with sincere warmth. "Whenever I gaze into your beautiful blue eyes, Brooklyn, I see our future. And yes, it remains bright."

His words struck her with unexpected force.

He looked at her and saw possibility, not just the weight of her past. Graham's faith in their future wasn't naive. He had seen the worst that humanity could offer, not just in his career, but also in his personal life.

He understood darkness.

He understood loss.

And still, he chose hope.

Time would allow her the ability to do so, as well.