Prologue

Alaska

Ten years ago

Something jolted Lieutenant Blake awake from a familiar nightmare. Panicked, she bolted upright, her heart thudding.

What the hell?

She forced her breathing to slow as she became aware of her surroundings, the low murmur of voices, the dull roar of the engines. She was on a plane to Moscow. She’d drawn the duty at the last minute—security detail for some Russian visitor flying home. A politician, or maybe a scientist from the look of him. He must be important to get this sort of attention.

She got to her feet and glanced around. The plane’s twenty-two seats were taken by two of her guys, in uniform, and then a load of suits.

All around her, people were stirring, some standing, but no one seemed particularly concerned. Maybe they’d hit turbulence and that’s what had shaken her awake? The pilot had warned them the weather was expected to get rough.

Leaning back against her seat, she opened up the shutter and stared through the small window. It was around three in the morning, and outside was total darkness. Maybe once the sun rose, there’d be—

An explosion rocked the cabin, and the plane lurched sideways, hurling her forward. She flew through the air, crashing into the seat, knocking the breath out of her lungs in a whoosh.

The lights went out. The plane listed to the side. Unable to gain her footing, she slid into the wall. Even in the darkness, she could sense the rush of air outside.

They were falling fast.

Is this it?

Pain clutched at her chest, squeezing, her heart racing as her adrenaline spiked. An image of her daughter flashed before her eyes. Only four years old. She’d grow up without her mother.

Abruptly, their downward momentum slowed, and the plane leveled out, the lights flickering on, off, then back on. A loud buzzing rang in her ears, some sort of alarm, and she struggled to her feet. She looked around, assessing the damage. A couple of people were clearly unconscious, while others were just getting to their feet. Most seemed dazed but unhurt.

Oxygen masks dangled from the ceiling. She ignored them and moved to the window. No longer total darkness. Outside, chaotic orange and red lights flared and flashed under the wing.

No, not lights. Flames. The engine was completely engulfed.

Resting her hand on the seat in front of her, she breathed slowly, her training kicking in. She pulled the shutter closed and strode toward where her sergeant was talking with one of the civilians.

“Davis, make sure the injured are secured in case of further…turbulence.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Next, she headed to the cockpit. She rapped on the door, and a second later, it opened from the inside and the copilot stood there—an air force captain from his uniform. Blood trickled from a cut on his forehead.

“What happened, sir?” she asked.

“I have no clue, Lieutenant, except we’ve lost one of the engines. Maybe something hit us. A lot of the instruments are down. We’re trying to assess the situation right now.”

“Have you called in?”

“We can’t get out a signal. Either the weather is too bad or something is blocking us.”

“Well, let me know if you get anywhere. And can you cut that alarm?” She didn’t want people panicking.

He nodded curtly and shut the door in her face.

A second later, the buzzing ceased.

Her mind itched to fix the situation, to assure the safety of everyone on board, but there was nothing else she could do.

A few seats ahead, the Russian was speaking animatedly to one of the suits, hands waving in the air. Her eyes narrowed when she heard the word “snowcap.” It resonated in her mind, the memory familiar but just out of reach.

And important.

The nose tipped downward again. She staggered but managed to keep her feet.

A voice came over the audio system. “We are attempting an emergency landing. Please take your seats and fasten your seat belts. Assume the brace position. We are going down.”

She took one last look around. The unconscious had been strapped into their seats. It was the best they could do for now, though unlikely to make a difference. While she was unsure of their exact location, they were somewhere over Alaska. In horrendous weather conditions. Their chances of survival were pretty low, but she was beyond fear.

Training fully engaged now, her mind was numb.

The plane lurched, and she stumbled against someone, her hand on his shoulder. The Russian. His face was pale.

Snowcap.

What did it mean?

She got back to her own seat and fastened the seat belt. They were moving faster now. Shouldn’t they be slowing down?

A shudder ran through the plane, a loud clunking sounded from somewhere beneath them, and their downward trajectory leveled a little. Bending over, she clasped her hands behind her head.

The roar grew to deafening, filling her mind, the cabin vibrating around her.

She kept her eyes wide open, staring at the gray floor.

Then another alarm rang out, shrill, urgent. She tightened her arms as a screech filled the air.

Everything went black.

When she came to, she was lying on her side, her lungs saturated with the stench of burning metal. And fuel. Her heart hammered as she fumbled to release the seat belt. All around, she could hear moans, cries for help.

They weren’t moving. They were down, and she was alive.

Her seat had come free, but she didn’t think she was seriously damaged. She blinked, unable to see anything in the darkness. Light shimmered at the edge of her vision. Orange and red.

Fire.

She pushed herself up and turned to look around, trying to make sense of the chaos.

The plane had broken in half. The back section was burning. The front end was just…gone, a jagged hole through which she could see a solid white curtain of snow.

They had to get out of there before the fuel tanks blew.

She scrambled to the open edge and peered down, unable to make out anything beyond the swirling flakes.

They were alive—at least some of them.

All they had to do was stay that way until rescue arrived.