Project Dakota: Rising of the dead
The information Darren had dumped into my lap was a live wire, sizzling and sparking in the dark of my mind, making a mockery of rest.
What if they caught me? The question was a relentless drumbeat. What if my hesitation, that single, fatal second of frozen fear when I should have pulled the trigger, was witnessed? What if Elise, with her keen eyes and sharper intuition, had seen the cowardice beneath the carefully constructed calm? What if Darren was not an ally, but a spider, weaving a web to see how deeply I would entangle myself? The questions were vipers, coiling and striking in the shadows of my subconscious, making focus a distant, laughable concept. My own hands, as I dressed in the
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