Dad stood about thirty yards to our left, in the middle of the clearing, shotgun raised at the one person I’d hoped to never see again.

I’d know that frame, that thick braid of chestnut hair, that profile with a slight bump in her nose anywhere. Hell, I’d been there the day she’d broken it when we were kids. I’d been the one to carry her out of that mine.

She stood about fifteen yards in front of us with her hands out and open, but she wasn’t retreating from the double-barreled reaper pointed straight at her chest. Backing down had never been in her nature, and while I’d always been intrigued by her tenacity, right now I was cursing her stupid stubborn streak.

Willow Bradley was going to get herself shot.

Sullivan’s Willow.

You gotta help me here, Sully. I sent the thought rather than spoke it, knowing Xander wouldn’t understand.

“Walk through the trees until you can come up behind him. As soon as I give you the signal, get that gun away from him,” I whispered to Xander, leaving zero room for argument.

“What signal?”

“Trust me, you’ll know.”

“He won’t recognize you. He’ll shoot you,” he hissed.

“Better me than her.” Death had never scared me. We’d played a game of cat and mouse for as long as I could remember, and one day I would lose. It was that simple.

If I died today, then so be it.

I moved.

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Willow

Think, Willow. Think.

This was Mr. Daniels. I’d known him my entire life. Alzheimer’s or not, there was no way he was really going to shoot me, right?

Except there was this one troubling factor: he had no idea who I was. Oh, and he had a shotgun pointed at my chest. That was troubling, too.

“Mr. Daniels,” I tried again, keeping my voice soft. “It’s me. It’s Willow. I live next door, remember?” If you considered a mile away next door.

The breeze whipped a loose strand of my hair across my face, but I didn’t dare tuck it back beneath my hat. The sun had set precious minutes earlier, and it was already getting dark. What if he just couldn’t see me?

“Be quiet!” he shouted, jerking the shotgun. His eyes were wide and wild but not evil. He simply didn’t know me or the circumstances that had led him here.