The Pacific roar was deafening, but it couldn't drown out the imaginary ticking clock echoing inside my skull. Forty minutes. The countdown to my daughter's breath failing had already begun in a quiet estate miles away, and there was nothing I could do to stop it from here.
The high beams from the three black SUVs pinned us in a blinding glare. Heavy rain turned the asphalt into a mirror of flashing red emergency strobes and white light. Evelyn stood amidst the glare, surrounded by the Syndicate's mercenaries, her scarred face twisted into a victorious smile. She looked like a specter born from the PCH fog itself.
I watched Lucian's weapon hold perfectly steady. His arm was a line of iron, the barrel of his submachine gun pointed directly at Evelyn's forehead. But his knuckles were white
