Fallen Rogue Read Free

the squishy bank. Breathing deeply, she gazed up at infinite treetops. Twilight was hovering among the storm-darkened clouds. She listened carefully for the sound of booted footsteps, but thankfully all she could hear was the dripping of rain against the foliage and the odd birdcalls as creatures began to settle in for the night.
    Harper felt dizzy, as if the world were spinning beneath her. She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her hands hard against her hammering skull, trying to relieve the sickening pressure. Hoping against hope the events of the last hour were all just a horrible dream.
    She slowly opened her eyes. She still saw the suffocating woods. Still saw the terrifying flash of fresh memories.
    A harsh rustling caught her attention as two squirrelschased each other up a rough tree trunk. The scratching of their tiny claws sounded curiously loud in the settling forest. She rose to a sitting position and scooted over to lean her back against the coarse base of the tree. Above her, the squirrels chittered in annoyance. It reminded her of how she and Bobby would bicker as kids.
    Bobby.
    He was dead. His body consumed by the fire. She had nothing left of her brother.
    Grief pummeled her body. It was too much. Harper had no idea how much time had passed when she finally felt as though she’d cried herself out. For now. She gazed into the pitch-dark woods, shivering and spent, not even wanting to look at her watch.
    Rubbing her stiff hands along her upper arms, she was immediately aware of the icy clamminess of her clothes. Knowing her body’s high threshold for cold, she left most of her wet clothes on, but decided to remove her T-shirt.
    The rain had stopped and the stormy clouds had twisted away. She draped her T-shirt over a low branch and huddled back into her North Face coat. Having left her backpack near the burning truck, she realized all she had were these clothes and her wallet with her driver’s license, debit card, and insurance card. She stuffed her hand into her coat pocket, pulling out a wrinkly five-dollar bill.
    Letting out a deep sigh, she settled under a veil of trees and the surrounding undergrowth—which sheltered her from the fall weather—and rested her hands on her thighs. She was bone-deep cold. She ran her hands along the hard muscles of her legs in an attempt to get her chilled blood circulating. Her shaking hand brushed over a tiny lump in her hip pocket. Bobby’s key.
    She fished it out, closed her hand around it, and raisedher fist to her heart. This meant something to Bobby. So it meant everything to her.
    Her brother wanted her to have this. What had he said? The Barracks? It was their favorite childhood hangout, where they’d played all day and talked about everything and nothing. Though he was seven years older, they were as close as twins. They were best friends. Were. And now he was gone.
    What could he have left there for her? What did that key go to? What was so important? Important enough to use up some of his last breaths? Whatever it was, she had promised. Promised him that she’d do anything for him. So she’d find whatever was there. He’d said she’d know what to do. And whatever it was, she’d do it. He’d been her world and now she’d be his.
    Adrenaline pulsed through her blood, warming her from the inside. The cold seeped away, replaced by a fierce determination that stirred and slowly burned within her, flowing through every nerve, simmering in her blood. The pain disappeared, replaced by a feral hunger. And rage.
    Harper gazed at the key one last time.
    She was used to competition. Used to the battle. Used to winning.
    Whoever had ripped Bobby away from her would regret it.
    Harper walked through waist-high ferns, paralleling the set of old train tracks zigzagging through the mossdraped trees. Having grown up in the area and having visited Bobby fairly regularly, she was familiar with the forests. There were some trails, but mostly she made her way from