Meet Me In The Dark: (A Dark Suspense) Read Online Free

times than I can count. But when I get to the part where the cliff side disappears and the forest takes over, I let out a sigh of relief and turn the music on. I played this song the whole way up here and I’ll play it the whole way down too. That eases my nerves a little more.
    It’s the little things that get you through, Syd.
    I know that. I live for little things. That way you’re never too disappointed.
    The snow gets deeper and deeper as I go and my wheels slide around, creating a sea of slush. I see a huge drift up ahead on the road. At least six feet high. I look in my rear view, anxious about who might come after me if they notice I’m gone, and then gun it.
    I’m not getting stuck on this mountain. I’m not. Once I’m in, I’m all in. I’ve never been someone who changes their mind once I hatch a plan. And quite frankly, I’m not up to witnessing the disappointment on Brett’s face if he finds out I tried to run and failed.
    The tires slip to the right, making me correct the steering, and then they find purchase on some stones or twigs and the truck lurches forward. The snow mound acts like a ramp and then I’m flying through the air. A moment later the front end crashes into the ground and I am thrown forward, my head hitting the airbags so hard I see stars.

“Limits are for finding strength. Push yourself until you can’t move… and see what happens.”
    – Case
     
    T here comes a time in every soldier’s life when they realize—all this bullshit is bigger than them. You are small. They are big. You are weak. They are strong. You are dead. They live on.
    I picture myself standing out in a vast desert surrounded by nothing but sand on all sides. There’s a crashed plane nearby, smoking.
    I’m in uniform, desert fatigues. But they are ripped from the crash. My body is burning from the sun and the pain. My lips are cracked and dry. Water is the only thing on my mind because that’s how you get through as a soldier. You only think of survival.
    The problem with survival for most people is that it’s overwhelming.
    I’m not most people.
    When others see nothing but sand, I squint and see the outline of a mountain range hidden in the mirage of the desert heat.
    When others feel their throats closing up as the dry wind whips past their face and threatens to choke them, I picture kissing a woman’s lips, still wet and cool after taking a refreshing drink of water.
    When others realize this bullshit is bigger than they ever imagined and all they want is to go back home and fuck their girlfriends and drink beer, I remind myself there is no girlfriend. There is no back home. There is only me.
    Other people walk away.
    Other people give up.
    Other people forgive and forget.
    I am not other people. I am Merc and there are three things you should know about me.
    Number one. You might be bigger, but I will last longer.
    Number two. If you fuck me, I fuck everything you ever loved.
    And number three. I never lose. My victory is only delayed.
    The tracking app dings in my hand and then a light appears. A smile cracks before I can stop it. Because how fucking perfect am I? I know her so well. And after almost eight years of careful observation and planning, I should.
    I tab a graphic on my phone app and pull up a satellite view. It’s real-time. Because while this bitch has been running her little country western bar in Cheyenne, planning cute little theme nights and trying to forget that she was once under the control of a ruthless man, I’ve been accumulating wealth, gathering technology, and feeding my desire for vengeance. I have all the tools. If revenge is a journey, then I’m well-supplied for it. I have anything and everything I want or need to pull off one last job before I disappear for good.
    And it all starts now.
    I check the laptop in the passenger seat, also showing the drone feed in real-time, and watch as it changes direction when she leaves the parking lot of the lodge that is heavily