In Too Deep: A Reacher Novel Novels & Stories

“Because if Rhett had seen you put a hand on her, you’d already be in the ground. So get up. Get out. And don’t ever come back.” The boy scrambled to his feet, blood dripping, eyes wild. He stumbled toward the door, clutching at his ribs. No one moved to stop him. No one spoke. Because when the Reaper claimed someone, it was final. ________________ Emily stood pressed against the wall, shaking, her wide eyes fixed on the torn cut at her feet. Ghost turned, his pale stare softening as it met hers. “You’re safe here,” he said quietly, gravel deep but steady. “Don’t ever doubt it.”

Instead, an old woman found me. In the end, I was still killed by that remaining killer who was still out there.

It had been ten long years since he had seen Shawn, ten long years since he last saw this level of pain in Shawn's eyes, when he shattered his heart into a thousand irreparable pieces. And now, here they stood, face-to-face at their college reunion party, ignited by a burning mixture of desire and resentment. Shawn's intense gaze pierced through Ivan, leaving him feeling stripped down to his core. It was a confrontation neither of them had anticipated, yet both had secretly desired. The years had changed them, etching deep lines on their faces and eternally marking their souls with time's relentless passage. But even after all these years, their chemistry remained as strong as ever, a cruel

"Don't come in. Just go. Forget the divorce. Once Gloria's better, we'll get back to normal." "I don't need it!" I slammed my foot into the door. My teammates barreled past him, wheeling me inside. Gloria lounged on the couch, sneering like a queen. "There she is again. No shame. Lost her kid and still crawls back. Honey, don't let her near us—she'll curse our baby too."

“With the Sorrentino family in its current state, which mafia family in New Haven would take you? “You may have polished yourself in Nassau, but to real families like ours, you’re nothing. “All these years, climbing upward, wasn’t it to prove something to me? To get my attention?” As if to prove his point, he took out his phone and held it before me. On the screen was my social media profile. The bio had five words: Waiting for a dawn. Nico smiled like a victor. “Waiting five years, what else could it be? You’re clearly waiting for me to change my mind, to give you that ‘dawn.’ “Lena, admit it. You can’t forget me. Everything you’ve done was for me to see.”

He touched it with a gentleness I hadn't seen him show to anything else. By the time dusk rolled in, I couldn’t stay cooped up anymore. The walls of the room felt like they were pressing in. I slipped out and wandered through the dimly lit hallways of the clubhouse. Most of the bikers ignored me, their attention on card games or greasy food. Some stared, curious but silent, their eyes following me like shadows. I heard whispers, hushed tones that carried through the smoke-filled air. About “the girl Reaper brought in.” About me being “another broken bird.”

“Tomorrow is looking slightly more sunny, with highs in the thirties. This is Iowa radio at six in the morning.” Elsie blinked hard, not understanding what in the world was going on. When she opened them again, Ollie was gone. She slowly sat up, expecting to see the workout equipment surrounding her and the massage table underneath her. But she wasn't downstairs in the clinic. She was still in her bed. What the hell? She thought, looking around her room. Beside her the alarm on her radio continued to describe the top news stories of the day. She hit the off button with a little more force than was necessary.

The ocean’s deepest level, six thousand meters under. My back slams down against some firm but bouncy surface. I strain my eyes to see in the perfect darkness and, oddly enough, I’m greeted by dazzling light. A solitary, unnatural glow is being held out to me like a lifeline. A nagging suspicion in my brain tells me this is exactly how a false hope would look if it ever took on a form. I’m in a dream inside another dream, a pocket of illusion that’s much too deep for me to surface out of.