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Abe wiggled his knife blade in the car lock, feeling for resistance.

“Isn’t this stealing?” Freya hovered anxiously beside him.

It had taken them twenty minutes to hike back to the cars. He’d been right. They had disabled his car by cutting the fuel line—simple, quick, and almost undetectable until it was too late.

“They cut the fuel line. I’m guessing they also blocked the ignition system too, just in case,” he muttered, concentrating on picking the lock of the fake police car. “You got any better ideas?”

Their pursuers had not returned yet. They were still out there, combing the area. But time was running short.

“No,” she admitted, hugging her arms around her. Her jacket was ridiculously thin for this weather, and the bluish tint on her cheekbones bothered him more than he liked. He needed to get her warm—fast.

The lock clicked, and Abe held his breath, waiting for the blare of the alarm.

Nothing.

Maybe it was his lucky day. God knows he was due some luck.

He yanked the door open.

The alarm screeched into life.

“Fuck.” He grabbed Freya’s arm and shouted over the blaring alarm. “Get in!” He lifted her by the hips and tossed her into the passenger seat, slamming the door behind her. By the time he rounded the car and slid into the driver’s seat, her face was pale through the window.

He launched himself under the steering wheel, fingers moving fast as he pried open the paneling. Damn, it had been too long since he’d done this.

“You know how to hot-wire a car, too?”

He grunted as he scraped plastic from the wire with his pocketknife.

“Is that what you teach you in?—”

“Freya. I’m busy .” He nipped off a piece of plastic with his teeth tasting metal, then twisted the wires together, praying it would work.

“Abe—”

“ Freya —”

“They’re coming.”

His head snapped up. Three men were charging toward them, weapons raised. Dirt puffed up from the ground as shots cracked through the air.

“Abe, I really think we should go now.”

He twisted the ignition.

Nothing.

Shit. Fucking shit.

He tried again, heart pounding as bullets pinged off the hood. What the hell were they thinking? Freya was no use to them to dead. Had no one briefed these morons?

The alarm cut out, and the engine sputtered, then roared to life. Yessss.

“ Abe .” Freya ducked, arms covering her head as a bullet shattered the side mirror.

He threw the car into reverse and hit the gas pedal. The SUV lurched backward, stones spraying in every direction. He grunted in appreciation, his biceps straining as he swung the car in a tight circle, positioning it toward the open road.

Without missing a beat, he shoved it into drive and floored it. The SUV surged forward, dirt kicking up in a cloud behind them.

They were moving—at last.

He shot a quick glance in the rear-view mirror, catching sight of one man furiously kicking the tires of his disabled SUV.

Suckers.

He turned onto the highway, the rigidity in his muscles only slightly easing as the solid black tarmac stretched ahead. Right would take them back toward Reykjavík and Hellisheidi—straight into more danger. Left led into the wilderness.

No roads, no people.

He hooked the wheel left, tires squealing as he left a streak of rubber in their wake.

Abe drove endless ribbons of road until his eyes were gritty with exhaustion. He kept to minor roads away from prying eyes, knowing they had to ditch this vehicle soon. They might have slipped their pursuers for now, but Raptor wouldn’t be far behind. With limitless resources, they played hard to get what they wanted.

He pulled over at the side of the road.

Freya had fallen asleep slumped against the passenger door. Long lashes brushed her cheeks, and the soft movement beneath her eyelids hinted at dreams racing just beneath the surface.

For a moment, he wanted to reach out, to soothe whatever troubled her.

He shook his head, exhaling. Stay sharp.

Despite her prickly exterior, she’d handled everything thrown at her with more grit than he’d expected. Hell, maybe even more than he could have hoped for. But the way he was feeling around her?

That was dangerous territory.

He eased out of the car, shutting the door quietly behind him, and popped the hood. The still night air was a welcome relief against his heated thoughts. His feelings had no place in this situation. The past had taught him love and duty didn’t mix. Not after what happened with Mariam. It was safer for everyone to keep things simple and casual.

He leaned into the engine, searching more by feel than sight, his fingers skimming along the edge of the cavity. His hand closed over something smooth, a faint bulge in the wiring.

Got you.

He worked it free, holding the small device up to the moonlight—a radio transmitter. Without hesitation, he dropped it to the ground and stamped on it, grinding the pieces beneath his heel.

That might slow Raptor down—for a bit, anyway. But he wasn’t fooling himself. He knew just how relentless they could be.

He pulled his phone from his pocket, weighing the logistics of calling Fox. It had been over six hours since they’d last checked in, and Fox would be worried. Still, there wasn’t much point until he had a solid plan in place.

Soon. Once he had a plan in motion.

Climbing back into the car, the noise stirred Freya, and she blinked groggily at him. “Where are we?”

“No idea.” He gestured at the bleak landscape around them. A sudden pang for the green forests of Norway surged through him. “I think I’ve seen enough volcanoes to last a lifetime.”

She gave him a tired smile as she pushed herself upright. “How long was I asleep?”

“Two hours, maybe more. I was focused on the road.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. Adrenaline exhausts people. You needed the rest.”

He glanced around at the moss-covered hills, the sense of desolation creeping into his bones. “Where are all the trees?”

“You actually want me to tell you some facts?” He caught the faint vulnerability in her tone, a hint of something softer beneath her usual sharpness.

A smile tugged at his lips. “Yeah. I guess I do.”

“They cut most of them down, hundreds of years ago.” She wiped a circle with her fingertips in the fogged side window. “When the Norse settlers arrived around 870 AD, Iceland was covered in forests—mainly birch. But they cleared them for farmland and building materials. By the early 20th century, only about one percent of the forest was left. People have been trying to replant, but it’s slow going.”

“That’s really interesting. I didn’t know that.”

She gave him a such sweet, shy smile in reply it made his heart give a kick.

Damn.

He cleared his throat, trying to shake the sudden warmth her smile sparked. “Hard to imagine. Looks like something out of a post-apocalyptic movie.”

His gaze swept the sparse, treeless landscape as he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. The weight of their situation crept back into his mind, but something in this moment felt different. Calmer.

“We need to lie low for a bit,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost reluctant to break the moment between them. “Somewhere safe where we can stay the night—give me time to come up with a plan.”

Freya stared out of the window. “I know someone.”

That caught his attention. “Who?”

She faced him. “Asta Eriksdottir. She was my mentor when I was at the University of Reykjavik working on my PhD. We’ve kept in touch over the years, though not as much lately. She lives off-grid. She’s, well, let’s just say she’s eccentric.”

Abe nodded, his focus shifting, his tactical mind back in gear. He turned the ignition, and the engine roared to life. “Where does she live?”