Page 46 of Ground Zero (Lantern Beach Blackout: Detonation #3)

M averick dragged himself onto the rocky shore near the lighthouse, his body shaking violently from cold and exhaustion.

Every movement sent spikes of pain through his ribs where he’d impacted the water. His muscles barely responded, cramped from the cold Atlantic and the desperate swim to shore.

He crawled into the dense maritime forest that surrounded the lighthouse, using the last of his strength to get out of sight. The thick canopy of live oaks and pine would hide him from aerial surveillance, at least temporarily.

Collapsing against a tree trunk, he reached for his pocket with numb fingers. His phone was still there, sealed in the waterproof case he always used—a habit from years of surfing. He pulled it out, amazed it had survived both the ocean impact and the swim.

Even more amazed when it powered on.

The screen was cracked, spider-webbing across the display, but it worked. Barely any battery left, maybe ten percent. One bar of signal.

He hoped that was enough.

His frozen fingers fumbled with the keyboard as he typed a message to the only person he could trust.

Alive. Near lighthouse. Sigma has helicopter. Need help. Norfolk still target.

He hit Send and watched the message struggle to go through. The sending icon spun once, twice . . .

Then: Delivered.

Maverick leaned back against the tree, his wet clothes clinging to him like ice. Every breath hurt. Every heartbeat felt labored. The early signs of hypothermia were setting in—confusion, drowsiness, the overwhelming urge to close his eyes.

He forced himself to stay alert, watching the phone screen for a response. The battery dropped to nine percent.

Come on, Sheridan. See the message. Believe me.

A minute passed.

Two.

The phone screen started to dim to save power.

And all he could do right now was wait and pray.

Sheridan read Maverick’s text but tried not to let her expression show anything.

Alive. Near lighthouse. Sigma has helicopter. Need help. Norfolk still target.

Relief washed through her. He was okay!

But for how long?

She had to get to him, to help.

Sheridan headed outside, careful not to show how jumpy she actually felt.

She made it to the parking lot without being stopped, though she felt eyes on her the whole way.

Once in her car, she typed quickly:

On my way. 20 minutes. Stay hidden.

Then she deleted both messages and pulled out of the lot at a normal, unhurried pace. No sudden moves, nothing to trigger suspicion.

But once she was out of sight of Blackout headquarters, she pressed harder on the accelerator.

Twenty minutes might be too long.

What kind of condition was Maverick in right now? Even if he was unharmed, he was still being hunted.

Her phone rang. It was Cook.

She let it go to voicemail.

Another call. This time from Morrison.

Sheridan turned off her phone completely and took a hard right, heading for the lighthouse. She was now officially off the grid, disobeying direct orders, and aiding a fugitive.

If she was wrong about Maverick’s innocence, she’d just destroyed her life.

But if she was right, she might be the only thing standing between him and death—and the only hope of stopping an attack that would kill thousands.

The lighthouse came into view, its white tower blending with the gray sky.

Somewhere in those woods, Maverick was waiting for her help.

She wouldn’t let him down.

Not this time.