Page 63 of Ash Storm

Ash helped her sit up and brought a water bottle to her lips, waited until she’d had a couple of sips, then set it back on the shelf behind them. Slate had already removed the IV from her arm and determined she could start drinking.

“Thank you. Where are we?”

He had assumed she wouldn’t remember much of their previous conversation.

“You’re safe, Reka. We’re about to land in Athens.”

“Athens …”

“Just a quick stop. Griffin and Slate will get off here—there’s a good hospital less than ten minutes away.”

“Is Griffin—“

“He’s stable. Slate thinks he’ll be okay.” Ash took a deep breath. “We’ll refuel and then fly on to Zurich.”

“Zurich?”

“Switzerland.”

Her velvet brown eyes flashed with annoyance. “I know where Zurich is. What I mean is, why are we going to Zurich?” And he could see she was trying to be brave, but she looked so scared.

“You’re a free woman, Reka. We will take you to Zurich. You’ll be able to speak to your parents and your uncle. After that, you can go anywhere you like. I swear to you.”

“My uncle knows … he knows I’m safe?” she asked.

Once again, Ash had the feeling there was a lot they were missing about Reynolds.

About Thorne, too.

There was so much they didn’t know—weren’t supposed to know.

“We need to go back to Istanbul after we drop Griffin off.”

“What?”

“That’s where Chloe is. We can’t leave Chloe behind.”

Ash swallowed hard. “I’m sorry, Reka. She’s not in Istanbul anymore.”

“What? Where is she?” she asked, her voice shrill with panic.

“We don’t know. We think Afsan took her,” Ash said, deciding to go with the truth.

“No … no …” Reka shook her head. She looked … sad and defeated. And he wanted to take her in his arms, to promise that he would make things okay, but knew instinctively that would be exactly the wrong thing to do. He’d already failed her once. He couldn’t bear doing so again.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“You’re sorry?” she spat out, her brown eyes flashing. “We left her there. If she dies …”

And her anger was tough to weather, but it was infinitely better than the sadness. He’d take her angry at him anytime, if it came to a choice between the two.

“I made the call,” he said woodenly.

And I would make it again.

Because he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that if they’d stayed even a few seconds longer, Reka would have died. And that was an outcome he couldn’t have lived with.

She held his gaze steadily, and for a long instant he thought she might want to hit him, but then she lowered her head to her hands.

“I’m sorry, Reka,” he repeated, digging his fingers into his palms.

I swear to you, I’ll bring Chloe back to you or die trying.

It was a promise he would keep, even if it wasn’t a promise he could share out loud—not here, not now, not when it would bring her a lot less comfort than it would bring him.