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Back Seasons of Chaos Save as PDF
Chapters (70)
  1. Dedication
  2. Prologue
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. 35
  38. 36
  39. 37
  40. 38
  41. 39
  42. 40
  43. 41
  44. 42
  45. 43
  46. 44
  47. 45
  48. 46
  49. 47
  50. 48
  51. 49
  52. 50
  53. 51
  54. 52
  55. 53
  56. 54
  57. 55
  58. 56
  59. 57
  60. 58
  61. 59
  62. 60
  63. 61
  64. 62
  65. Epilogue
  66. Acknowledgments
  67. About the Author
  68. Books by Elle Cosimano
  69. Back Ad
  70. About the Publisher

There’s a lengthy pause between his fogging breaths. “What about Poppy?”

“You’re going to tell me how the hell she and her friends made it down here.”

His knuckles tighten around the bars. “She’s here?”

“With Chase, Verano, and their Handler. And you’re going to tell me how they got in.”

“How would I know? I was asleep when you and your friends snatched me off the ley lines. If Poppy and the others are here, I wasn’t along for the ride.”

“No, but you were instrumental in planning their escape from here, so I’m betting the key to solving this mystery is locked away in your skull, and if you won’t tell me how they got down here, I’m willing to crack it just to see what spills out.”

Chill takes a step away from the bars. “Do what you need to do, asshole. I’m not telling you shit.”

I call over my shoulder for Jora to unlock the cell. Chill fights as the Guards haul him out and Jora cuffs his wrists behind him. She kicks his legs apart and secures each one to the bars.

“Open his eyes,” I bark as Chill turns his cheek.

March holds the Winter’s head, turning him to face me. Jora pries open his eyelids.

His memories rush me, disorienting and chaotic. I struggle to grasp a single image before the next one starts. A house in Alaska . . . the lake in Cuernavaca . . . a fire in the desert . . . the earthquake in Tecate . . . a beach by a cliffside . . . the back seat of an SUV with his Handler . . . a subway underground . . . a cabin in the woods . . . a boat . . . an elevator . . .

“There.” By sheer will, I seize the image. My head pounds as I wrestle to hold it.

A wooden crate rests on a dolly, wheeled by a man with a familiar ruddy face. Money exchanges hands. A set of keys is pulled from the pocket of a kitchen smock. . . .

I bend over my knees, hand pressed to my eye as the sharp pain begins to dull.

Michael never figured out how Jack and his friends escaped. The footage from the cameras around Jack’s dorm room had been wiped, leaving mysterious gaps in the recordings on the servers, and the van we’d tracked had been purchased under a fake name. By the time we were able to pin down their location, Michael was more concerned with ending Jack’s little adventure than figuring out where it began.

If Michael had seen this moment—this face—in the eye of his staff, he could have put an end to Jack’s rebellion before it ever happened. Jack and his friends would all be in the wind.

“When you see Jack,” I growl at Chill, “you tell him I have Fleur. And you tell him I’ll be waiting for him.”

27

The Heart Aching to Seek

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JACK