Epilogue

one week earlier: the day of the earthquake

Pierce's past had finally caught up to him.

He'd known it was chasing him, nipping right at his heels. He'd known it was only a matter of time before it lunged, tearing open old wounds and secrets he'd tried to bury. But he hadn't expected it to hit him like a freight train, throwing him into a situation far removed from the solitary life he'd carved for himself in Steam Valley.

He couldn't stay.

He'd put all of his friends—his only family—in danger.

His original plan had been to hike up the mountain and disappear into the wilderness, but halfway up the trail, he'd spotted a familiar face and realized it wasn't an option.

They knew he was here.

He had to leave Steam Valley altogether.

Probably California.

Hell, maybe the States.

If he got far enough away, maybe the past would finally stop biting.

Yeah, right , he thought.

They'd never stop looking for him. They'd never let him be. They were like hounds, relentless and unforgiving. If they smelled blood, they'd hunt him to the ends of the earth.

So Pierce returned to his comfortable apartment above a sweet old lady's garage and packed his bag—bare minimum, essentials only. He tossed a few protein bars into the mix and filled his flask with water from the kitchen tap. He yanked his duffel bag over his shoulder, the worn leather straps fitting comfortably.

Jesus. For a few years there, he'd thought he was finally done running, finally done living out of a bag. His heart clenched at the thought. He'd found a home in Steam Valley, something he hadn't even known he was missing till he'd stumbled into it. He almost laughed at his own naivety. Who was he kidding? A man like him could never escape his sins. The sins that had marked him, scarred him, taken away his voice and his ability to indulge in pretty fantasies things like a home.

Raszta sat at his feet, panting anxiously. Smart dog knew something was up.

Picking up his keys, he headed out the door. He gave Razzy the hand signal to stay even though it broke his heart. But he couldn't take him. It was too dangerous, and Razzy didn't deserve that.

Pierce knelt down. Raszta's ponytail was askew, and he took a moment to straighten it, fluffing out the dreadlocks into a ridiculous little fountain of fur. He scratched the dog's floppy ears, then pressed his forehead to Raszta's and shockingly felt his eyes burn with tears.

Leaning back, he met Raszta's soulful brown gaze. The understanding there cut him deep. Dogs knew more about humans than they ever let on. He gave him one last pat on the head and then stood up.

Pierce hesitated for a moment outside his front door. It felt like stepping off a cliff into an endless, dark abyss. But it was either this or put all of Steam Valley under threat. He chose to jump.

He took one last look at Redwood Coast Rescue. The complex sat on a hill across the street from his landlady's house, and he could just make out Sawyer and Zelda walking across the field toward the trailhead at the base of the mountain.

Disappearing like this without a word was going to piss Sawyer off. He'd search for Pierce using every digital trick in his arsenal, and when he came up empty-handed, he would be frustrated. That frustration would turn to concern, possibly even fear.

But the truth was, Sawyer would always find a way to cope. That was just who he was: adaptable, resilient, unyielding. Sawyer's resourcefulness knew no bounds. Hiding from him would prove difficult, but Pierce had always been good at disappearing.

After Sawyer got over being pissed, he'd be okay.

At the other side of the complex, by the big blue house, Zak stood with Anna, Donovan, and Sasha, dogs and kids racing happy circles in the yard around them.

Pierce rubbed at the dull ache in the center of this chest. What he wouldn't give for the simplicity of the life Zak and Anna had built up here— it wasn't perfect, but it was a hell of a lot better than this cloak and dagger shit. Always looking over your shoulder, never knowing when it was safe to stop running, never knowing whether the next face you saw would be friend or foe.

Inside the apartment, Raszta let out a protesting yip… and Pierce couldn't do it. Couldn't leave him. It was stupid and dangerous. He couldn't run, couldn't blend into a crowd and disappear with a dog as unique as Razzy with those dreadlocks and the raspy, pack-a-day smoker's bark. But he couldn't leave him behind. Raszta wasn't just a dog. He was family.

Pierce turned back to the door and opened it, whistling for Raszta to come. The dog's tail wagged furiously as he bounded over, playfully nipping at his fingers.

He smiled down at Raszta even as his heart thudded. This was a mistake— but fuck it. Couldn't he have one thing in his life that wasn't tainted by the past? One thing that was purely his? Maybe he didn't deserve it, but he was going to take it.

"Come on, Raz," he signed. The dreadlocks were going to have to go if they were going to blend in. He smiled slightly at the thought of Razzy sporting a close-cropped ‘do. At least he wouldn't have to spend an hour every night separating out the cords anymore.

A lump rose up hard and fast in his throat. Shit, why did the thought of losing that simple nightly routine hurt so much? It was just hair. It'd grow back.

He shook his head, clearing the lump in his throat, and looked back toward the rescue. Zelda had stopped at the edge of the woods and was staring straight at him, her ears flattened as if she knew something was wrong. Sawyer paused then, his head tilted as if he was listening to something only he could hear.

Pierce clenched his jaw hard, a sharp pang of regret twisting in his stomach. He wished he could tell Sawyer what was happening, but that would just put him—and everyone else—in danger.

"Let's go," he signed to Razzy and with one last look at the rescue, he climbed into his beat-up Ford Bronco. He'd have to lose the SUV, too, and that also hurt. He liked this car. It was old and a bit rusted, but it was reliable and his . The only thing from his former life he'd kept, a remnant of his all too short childhood.

Which was why it had to go.

He'd take it as far as San Francisco and swap it out for something less conspicuous.

But first he had to put as much distance between him and Steam Valley as he could. The engine roared beneath him as he hit the highway ramp and stepped on the gas. Razzy sat beside him, head hanging out the passenger window, tongue lolling sloppily, dreadlocks flapping from his ponytail like banners in the wind.

Pierce watched as the familiar landmarks of Steam Valley faded in his rearview mirror, growing smaller until they were just specks on the horizon. The town had been his refuge, his sanctuary. Here he had found a semblance of peace, even happiness. But it was all an illusion, just like everything else in his fucked-up life.

Christ, he was tired.

Tired of running, of looking over his shoulder, of the merciless grip fear had on him. That fear was a relentless beast, gnawing at his insides and shredding him to ribbons day by day. It was exhausting and unending. But it was the only constant in his chaotic life.

He glanced at Raszta, the dog's face turned towards the rush of wind, eyes closed in blissful ignorance. He wished he could swap places with him, if only for a moment, to know what it felt like to feel the sun on his face without wondering when it might be the last time.

He turned his gaze back to the highway, his knuckles white on the wheel as he sped along the road that stretched out before him like a gray ribbon against the rugged California landscape.

The highway was busy today, clogged with weekend traffic, heading toward sun-soaked stretches of coastline and craggy heights of the surrounding mountains. Paranoia scratched at the back of his skull. Every car that pulled up alongside his Bronco made his heart jump. Every unknown face a potential threat, every glance a possible recognition.

It was suddenly hard to breathe. He couldn't open up his lungs, couldn't suck in air.

Panic attack.

Fuck, it had been a long time since he'd had one of these. He'd been working with Rylan on managing his anxiety, but with the sudden uptick in stress, it seemed his old habits were creeping back in.

His breath hitched and his hands twitched on the steering wheel. He reached for the dashboard, fumbling blindly until he found the vent. Cranking it up, he let the ice-cold air whip against his face as he tried desperately to remember what Rylan had taught him.

Focus on the present. The way the vinyl of the steering wheel felt beneath his sweating palms, the sound of the engine rumbling beneath him, the steely taste of fear on his tongue.

He looked over at Razzy again, hoping the dog's calm demeanor would ground him. But it didn't.

With every passing mile, his anxiety worsened. The tight knots in his stomach pulled tighter, each twinge sending jolts of pain up into his chest. His breathing came in short, shallow gasps. The world outside became a blur of colors as his vision tunneled.

He had to stop, take the time to get it under control, or he'd be a danger to himself and Raszta.

He pulled into a rest stop just off the highway and parked the car in a secluded corner.

Pierce slumped back in his seat as he tried to steady his breathing, each inhale a struggle, each exhale a victory. He closed his eyes, focusing on the cold air pouring from the vent and the soft whine from Raszta at his side.

Rylan's words echoed in his mind. When it happens, ground yourself in the present. Try naming five things you can see, four things you can touch, three things you can hear, two things you can smell, and one thing you can taste.

But it was easier said than done when every fiber of your being screamed to run, to hide.

His hands shook as he reached for the door handle, pushing it open with more force than necessary. He needed fresh air— real fresh air— not the artificial chill that came from the car's air conditioning. He stepped out of the vehicle, bending double like he had just run a marathon.

"Are you okay?"

The woman's voice reminded him of sultry Southern nights and sweet tea. It was a soothing balm against his frayed nerves. He looked up, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. A petite woman was standing next to the car that had just pulled into the space beside his, her straight dark hair was piled in an artfully messy bun on top of her head with wisps spilling out around her lightly freckled face. She had big eyes that looked as green as a spring meadow from a distance, but the green darkened to a greenish-gold as she approached.

Beautiful.

He scowled at the wayward thought and gave sharp nod, reaching for the Bronco's door.

"Wait, I think I know you," she said suddenly. "You're Pierce St. James, right?"

His spine snapped straight, and he looked at her again. Shit, she did look familiar. Something about her eyes, that mercurial green-gold was not something one easily forgot. His heart started ramping up again, every alarm bell in his body screaming danger.

Was she one of them?

Had they found him again so quickly?

He didn't have a weapon. His gun was tucked in his duffle bag in the back seat.

He slowly turned toward her, keeping his expression carefully blank. At least face-to-face, if she tried something, he'd have a better chance at defending himself.

"I mean, I don't know you personally," she added quickly, obviously flustered. Color splashed over her cheeks. "I know of you from my brother. He talks about y'all all the time and sent me a picture of the team once. I recognize your dog." She nodded toward Razzy, who was hanging out the driver's side window now. "Raszta, right?"

At the sound of his name from the newcomer, the dog's tail wagged happily. Traitor.

"Who are you?" he signed. It was instinctive—he didn't actually expect an answer. Most people didn't know sign language.

But her hands instantly came up and started signing as she spoke. "Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot Rylan said you use ASL to communicate. I'm Rhiannon, Ry's sister."

Pierce vaguely remember Rylan mentioning that his sister was coming for a visit. But what were the chances he'd run into here at this rest stop miles away from Steam Valley?

He didn't like coincidences.

Trust no one. That was his motto, even if paranoia made him see threats where there were none.

Raszta jumped out of the car, his tail wagging harder as he trotted up to greet Rhiannon. Her laugh was bright and genuine as she crouched and allowed the dog to happily lick her face. Pierce watched the scene, a scowl pulling at his mouth. No apprehension whatsoever in the mutt, no suspicion. Raszta trusted easily, loved everyone he met.

Pierce didn't have that luxury.

"Aww, look at you! You really do look like a mop and a bear made a puppy," Rhiannon said, smushing the dog's face between her hands. She let Raszta give her one more lick before she ruffled his ears and stood. "Ry told me he was a unique dog."

Pierce found himself relaxing slightly at her words. He loosened his grip on the car door and looked Rhiannon over again. She shrugged out of her denim jacket as the sun began to heat up, revealing a pretty floral sundress that complemented her freckled skin. Her eyes twinkled with laughter as she watched Raszta chase his own tail.

She seemed genuine, and Raszta's reaction to her was positive. There was a warmth in Rhiannon's eyes as she interacted with Raszta that made his chest twinge in an unfamiliar way.

His breaths were coming a little easier now, he realized. The air no longer felt like sandpaper against his throat. Why was that when moments ago he thought he might pass out from lack of oxygen?

Bewildered, he ran his hand over his short hair. Rhiannon had the same air of calm as her brother—the same soothing and steady presence that encouraged you to drop your walls, to unwind, to trust. It was a trait that had annoyed Pierce when he first met Rylan, but with Rhiannon, it seemed different, somehow. More appealing. With her, it felt like a soothing balm to wounds he didn't even know were still open. This woman, this stranger who was not a stranger, made him want to trust her, and that went against everything that had kept him alive for the past few years.

He couldn't let down his guard. He had been blindsided before by people who seemed harmless.

He lifted his hands to tell her he needed to go, but the ground beneath him lurched violently, throwing him off balance. The air filled with a cacophony of car alarms and panicked shouts as the world shifted and buckled. A nearby telephone pole snapped like a toothpick, slamming into a parked car with a sickening crunch.

Rhiannon staggered, arms flailing for balance. She barely managed to keep her feet under her as Raszta yelped. Pierce reached out and grabbed hold of her arm, pulling her toward him just as the ground gave another ferocious lurch that sent them both sprawling. He curled around her, cushioning her fall, and his head hit the asphalt hard. Stars danced in his vision. Raszta huddled against them, shaking with each tremor.

Then, just as suddenly as it began, the earthquake stopped.

For a moment, there was just silence– an eerie calm following the earth's violent tantrum. Pierce's ears rang, his heart thundering as he lay on the asphalt with Rhiannon sprawled on top of him. Her body was warm against his, her quick shallow breaths matching his own. His senses were hyper-aware; the smell of hot asphalt and disturbed earth filled his nostrils, and he could taste dust and blood on his tongue from where he'd bitten down during the quake.

"Are you okay?" he signed to Rhiannon when he saw that her eyes were open, and she was staring down at him with wide-eyed shock. She blinked at him, dazed and silent, before finally nodding and pushing off him.

Pierce expelled a shaky breath of relief. Having her so close had been...disconcerting. It rattled him more than the quake.

He sat up, swaying slightly as a wave of dizziness washed over him.

Fuck.

He massaged his aching head before finally looking around at the damage. The nearby telephone pole was now a splintered remnant, live wires sparking dangerously on the ground. Cars were askew, tossed like a child's discarded toys. Cracks spiderwebbed through the asphalt beneath them.

He hadn't realized when he pulled in, but this rest stop was more like a roadside attraction, with a chintzy gift shop built into the side of a cliff. The shop was intact except for a few shattered windows and people slowly emerged looking dazed and terrified, faces pale under a layer of dust and debris.

Raszta was shaking, his tail tucked between his legs. Pierce reached out to calm the dog, scratching behind his ears in an attempt to reassure him.

"Pierce," Rhiannon's hoarse voice cut through the strange stillness. "Look at the hill."

Pierce followed her gaze to the hill overlooking the rest stop. The whole side of it was moving, shifting like a monstrous wave.

Landslide.

He grabbed her hand, picked up his dog, and ran for the shelter of the gift shop as a cascade of rocks and dirt rolled toward them with an ominous, deafening roar.

The Redwood Coast Rescue adventure continues with Pierce's book, Searching for Secrets .