THE TITAN EXPERIMENT

CHAPTER 3 - Icy Chase

The west entrance of Central Park loomed ahead.

Sarah chose the park for a reason. She had a contingency plan.

Benches and shrubs lined the sidewalk, seeming to channel her down a frozen corridor. A holographic woman appeared, triggered by a sensor. The well-known TV personality from The Weather Channel, Jade Jackson, issued a freeze warning, telling her to bundle up. "Expect temperatures to drop below zero overnight," Jackson said as Sarah charged past her.

She continued, dashing under the park sign.

Her boot skidded on a layer of fresh snow that blanketed the bridge, and she lost traction for a second before regaining her footing. She blew by swirls of decorative wrought-iron on both sides, accumulated snow tapering up from the rails. No one would be in the park this late at night in this weather. Advantage Wolf. But soon, Sarah would have the edge.

The man's footfalls pounded on the bridge behind her in relentless succession. Ahead, the trees in the park offered the possibility of disappearing into their secluded embrace.

Sarah's boots hit the frozen ground. She heard the crunch, crunch of icy grass under her feet.

Her breath fluttered from her lips, fogging the night air, her heart in rhythm with the thudding of her boots on the hard tundra.

The man grunted behind her.

A moment later, his muscular frame crashed down on top of her, crumbling Sarah beneath the weight of his body, her forearms forced into the ground, her face planting in the snow.

As Wolf drew back, set to haul her to her feet, she whirled around under him, and slammed her elbow into his chin. The blow tossed him aside, his body rolling in stride, coming to a stop a few feet away. Sarah's fingers sank into a thick layer of snow. The icy tendrils spiraled around her hands as she pushed up and glimpsed Wolf gathering himself.

A realization hit her like a block of ice. She had to move. Now.

She sprang to her feet and took off down a walking trail.

Without looking back, she knew he was on her tail again. The audible sound of his hands and feet swiping at the snow, desperate to find purchase, and then the treads of his boots mashing into the frozen precipitation, each lunging stride more determined than the last. It took him three decades to track her down; he would probably die before he gave up trying.

At the top of the hill, the tree cover thickened into rows of bark-laden trunks and evergreen needles that could offer shelter to a deer fleeing the canines of a ravenous wolf. Or a woman on the run from a government operative with a thirst for blood. Sarah hustled up the rise and leaned into a curve on the other side. Believing she had dipped below his plane of sight, she planted her foot and cut between two oaks, darting into the wooded area. The further she went; the canopy overhead grew darker as she left the lights of the city behind. The trees became smaller until she entered an older section of the forested park. Limbs clawed at her face, narrowly missing her eyes, but a branch scraped across her brow. Wincing from the pain, she swiped her hand over her forehead and discovered a warm wetness covering her fingers.

The crimson stain appeared black in the feeble light of the forest.

A rumor had floated through the space station about Wolf.

Sarah knew it couldn't be true, that he couldn't really smell the scent of her blood. The thought unsettled her nerves and made her legs churn harder, blazing a trail through the maze of limbs.

She stormed through the white laced cluster of evergreen needles, broke into a clearing, and stopped. She wasn't breathing heavy, even after running so hard.

She listened. Silence, save for a breeze moaning through the pines and cedars like a ghost.

Sarah sucked in a breath, satisfying her lungs while taking in the eerie quietness of the park. As snow fell again, she wiped her hand over her wound and slung the blood onto the ivory accumulation. Flakes collected on tree limbs and the forest floor with faint clicks. The setting was picturesque. She would have considered it beautiful if not for being chased by Wolf.

She scanned the clearing, trying to pick out the familiar path she had mapped out in her mind. The snow didn't help matters; her surroundings were disappearing beneath an ever-growing blanket of white.

"The sky is falling, Sarah," a gruff voice said from behind her.

With a start, she spun around. Her mouth opened, but all that came out was a steamy breath that evaporated in the frigid air.

"I placed a tracker on you at the bridge." A victorious grin spread across Wolf's face as he pocketed a phone that appeared to be nothing more than a piece of glass. He bit the end of a glove and pulled it off with his teeth. Did the same with the other glove. With a finger, he rubbed the bottom of his lip. "You're feisty. I can appreciate that, but I have to bring you in."

"Why? So they can stick me with syringes until they drain the life from me?"

He screwed his face into a grimace. "Don't make this hard, Sarah. It doesn't have to be. We can be civil about this."

"I told you I'm not going back. I'll never work for the admiral again. Arcturus was the last straw."

"We need you, Sarah. And... we discovered something, something you'll be interested in."

"I've had a lot of time on my hands." She shifted sideways, raised her fists. She felt light on her feet. "I didn't sit around twiddling my thumbs. I prepared for the day we'd meet again."

"Didn't you hear me?"

"You have nothing that interests me."

Wolf smirked. "You want to fight? Seriously?"

Sarah inched toward him, waiting for the right moment. She had spent years in gyms across the States while on the run, her fists and feet pulverizing punching bags. She refused to train with a sparring partner, fearing she would hurt someone. One gym in Kansas banned her after one of her flying kicks tore a bag from the ceiling, startling and perplexing the people working out. There was no reasonable explanation for her strength. She didn't look that strong, but she was.

Sarah lashed out with a lightning-fast jab to his nose, holding back the punch as much as she could. She drew back, cocked for another blow as Wolf backpedaled. Before he recovered, an opportunity opened up for another weapon in her arsenal. Sarah whirled around and delivered a roundhouse kick to his abdomen. Again, she restrained from using full force, having no desire to hurt anyone unless it became necessary. The bottom of her boot flattened his gut, rocking his abdomen. She placed the blow beneath his sternum in the center of his solar plexus, a tangle of nerves that, if properly targeted, could stop an attacker in their tracks. The kick knocked the wind from Wolf's lungs, but avoided cracking ribs and damaging organs.

Wolf flew backwards to the ground.

Incapacitated, he reeled in pain, groaning and grunting, his face red from the blood rushing to his cheeks. She watched as he rolled onto his hands and knees, gasping for air.

With her attacker stunned, Sarah bolted for the edge of the clearing.

Her chance to escape.

She glanced back, only to see Wolf raising the barrel of a gun, taking aim, and squeezing the trigger.