The red gas was a silent executioner.
Silas felt his lungs seizing, a thousand needles of fire pricking his throat. He looked at Elara. She was slumped against the industrial refrigerator, her eyes rolling back, her hand still reaching for her brother, Leo.
"Eat it," Silas wheezed, shoving the half-crushed blue pill into her mouth.
He didn't wait for her to swallow. He pressed his lips to hers, blowing the last of his own oxygen into her lungs, forcing the medicine down.
The world turned grey. The hum of the kitchen fans faded into a rhythmic thumping—his own heartbeat, slowing to a crawl.
I failed her again, was his last thought before the darkness claimed him.
He woke up to the sound of wind. Not the artificial wind of a fan, but a howling, primal gale that rattled windowpanes.
Silas bolted upright, his hand instinctively flying to his waist. His gun was gone. His tuxedo was gone. He was wearing a soft, grey cashmere sweater and linen pants.
He was in a bedroom that defied gravity—floor-to-ceiling glass walls overlooking a jagged, snow-covered mountain range.
"Don't try to stand," a voice said.
Elara was sitting in an armchair by the fireplace. She looked pale, a thick knitted blanket wrapped around her shoulders, a mug of steaming tea in her hands. Beside her, on a small cot, Leo was sleeping, his breathing steady for the first time in years.
"Where are we?" Silas asked, his voice a gravelly ruin.
"The Eiger Nest," she replied. "A private sanctuary in the Swiss Alps. M's 'Plan C.' Her extraction team found us three minutes before the hotel turned into a tomb."
Silas looked at her, really looked at her. The firelight danced in her emerald eyes. "The pill... half wasn't enough to stop the poison, only to stall it. How are we alive?"
Elara set the tea down. She walked over to the bed, her movements slow and pained. She sat on the edge of the mattress, the scent of vanilla and antiseptic clinging to her.
"It wasn't the pill, Silas," she whispered. "M's doctors said your respiratory system took the brunt of it because you gave me your air. They had to put you in a chemical coma for three days."
She reached out, her fingers trembling as she brushed the hair from his forehead.
"You almost died for me. Again."
Silas grabbed her hand, pulling her closer until their foreheads touched. "I told you, Viper. I'm the Ghost. You can't kill what's already yours."
A screen on the wall flickered to life. M appeared, her face bandaged, her arm in a sling.
"Touching," M rasped. "But the honeymoon is over. Marcus didn't just want the list. He wanted the 'Trigger.' And he just sent a message to every Syndicate cell on the planet. He's put a fifty-million-dollar bounty on the 'Sterlings.' Dead or alive. Mostly dead."