get the freedom that must have been so precious to him.
Could she get herself to leave him?
She didn’t even have to think about it. No. She would never be able to leave him to die.
But it was her responsibility to protect him, and it wasn’t his job to protect her.
And if you weren’t a Marshal, does that mean you’d just waltz off and be able to leave him to freeze to death? Don’t be ridiculous. You wouldn’t leave a prisoner behind to save yourself, but you couldn’t leave Coop. You know the difference just as much as he does.
But that didn’t mean that she was going to just give in and agree to let him stay. She wanted to save his life by whatever means she could.
“It was my idea to do this,” Gretchen said. “I’m the one who said we should try to outrun the weather. I put you in this situation, and I’m the one who has to get you out of it.”
“I would have done the exact same thing in your shoes.”
She blew out an exasperated breath, which at least restored a little feeling to her lips. “But you weren’t in my shoes. You’re in the passenger seat.”
“I think you’re mixing your metaphors.”
“Dammit, Cooper.” Now she really was crying. “I need you to make it out of this. We can’t just both stay here hoping we’ll live until morning when I know we won’t. I can’t die knowing you’ll die too. I can’t stand it.”
He kissed her closed eyes, taking away her tears. He was so gentle. She didn’t know how anyone could have ever looked at him and not known how purely good he was. He shone with a kind of internal light she’d never seen in anyone else.
“We’re not going to die here,” Cooper said. He wrapped his arms around her more tightly than ever, cradling her against his chest, against the fresh, clean smell of his skin. Gretchen listened to his heartbeat. Against all odds, it was reassuring.
When he said, “I’m going to get us both out of here,” she actually believed him.
14
Cooper was acutely, painfully aware of the ticking clock.
As soon as he’d opened the door to go outside, he had sent the temperature in the car plummeting down even further and faster than before. Whatever time Gretchen had left before the cold got the best of her, he’d just cut it in half, especially since he’d left her without a shifter space heater. All she had now was her own failing body warmth, the clothes she’d put back on, the two hand-warmers (which wouldn’t be doing nearly enough), and Martin’s fleece blanket.
And while this was much, much lower on his list of priorities, he had to be realistic about his own prospects, too. He’d taken his coat—Gretchen had insisted on it, despite his protests—but he was still standing out in sub-zero temperatures and dealing with wind that cut straight through his clothes. Gretchen might not be able to survive waiting inside the car much longer—and he might not be able to survive waiting outside it, either.
If he was going to find his griffin, he had to do it fast.
And this was already too slow.
He closed his eyes. It might or might not help him concentrate, but it would definitely keep the hard, icy snow out of them, and that had to be a plus.
He felt scattershot. He needed so badly to save her that it was like his head was filled up with a sound and fury that drowned out even the storm. He knew it wasn’t helping, but he couldn’t seem to make it stop.
Then, out of the darkness, something in him did stop it.
Prison sucked in a lot of ways. Almost every way. But it did teach you how to be calm, Coop: it taught you how to stay calm even when everything around you was hell and chaos. It made you so good at controlling yourself that you locked away the part you most need to reach, so it’s a mixed blessing, but that’s the kind of calm you need right now. That’s the kind you need for Gretchen’s sake.
But what if Roger was right? What if his griffin was gone for good?
Are you really going to believe Roger over Gretchen? When it comes to something as important as your own soul?
No. No, he wasn’t.
Even if his griffin really could die inside of him, he was going to have to believe that it wasn’t dead yet. If Gretchen needed