Page 23 of Forest Reed (Seals on Fraiser Mountain #8)

Zoe

The timer bled down—thirty seconds, twenty-nine—each blink pounding into my skull. My lungs burned with smoke and panic as I fired blind into the shadows, just to keep the wolves pinned.

Jason’s voice was tight, clipped. “Too many redundancies—he wanted me chasing ghosts.”

“Pick one,” Forest growled. “Make it the right one.”

The timer glared red. 0:18.

Jason’s hands shook, sweat streaking dirt across his face. His lips moved in a low litany—numbers, colors, patterns—like he could force order into the chaos.

0:10.

Bullets whined past. Forest fired three quick shots, reloading without ever taking his eyes off Jason. I caught the flicker of fear in his face—the kind he never let anyone see.

0:05.

Jason’s cutters hovered, breath ragged. “Trust me.”

Forest’s voice was a growl, but steady. “We do.”

0:03.

Jason snapped the wire.

The timer froze. Blinked once.

Then went dark.

Silence swallowed the dam, heavy and absolute. The only sound was water roaring beneath us and my heartbeat pounding like it was trying to break free.

Jason sagged back on his heels, eyes wide, chest heaving. “Cut it… at three.”

Forest exhaled hard, lowering his rifle. “Remind me never to let you cook dinner.”

Despite the ringing in my ears, I laughed—wild, shaky, half hysteria. Forest pulled me into him, just for a second, grounding me against the quake still rolling through my chest.

We were alive. The valley was safe.

For now.

Because when I glanced back at the ridgeline, through the haze of smoke and gunpowder, I swore I saw him.

North. Watching. Smiling.

And then he was gone.