AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The door opens, and Denver steps out. “Everything okay?”
“We’re just having some girl talk about our monthly cramps.” Wolfson blows a smoke ring into the chilly air. “Nothing that concerns you, sugar.”
I even out my breathing and straighten my spine as Denver looks me over.
Seemingly satisfied with my appearance, he nods. “Don’t wander off. Dinner will be ready in five.”
Glancing between us, he slips back into the cabin.
Did Wolfson just cover for me? Or is this how he always behaves around Denver? I can’t begin to figure out their relationship beneath the sarcasm and ill-fitting terms of endearment. Doesn’t matter. I’m out of time.
But before I make the next move, I have to know. “What happened to your mother?”
“What happened to yours?”
Startled by the question, I answer truthfully. “She died two years ago.”
“Did you kill her?”
“What?” I cough. “No. What kind of question is that?”
“Isn’t that what you were about to ask me?”
“No, actually.” I study his heavy-lidded eyes. “Are you high?”
“I wish.” Flicking his cigarette away, he exhales a stream of smoke. “I know you faked that panic attack.”
Shit.
My pulse jumps.
This is it. I have a choice.
Accept my fate.
Or change it.
It really isn’t a choice at all.
“Yeah, I did.” Unzipping my coat, I reach inside and wrap my fingers around the ax handle. “I wanted to show you something.”
“Your tits?” His brows climb to his hairline. “I’m totally here for that.”
“Have you ever seen a woman’s breasts?” My heart beats faster, harder.
“Fuck, it’s been so long I don’t remember.” With a groan, he flattens a hand against the house as if to brace himself. “Jesus, I beg you. Don’t tease me.” Lowering his head, his gaze drops to the unmistakable boner tenting his robe. “Damn. Now you know I’m a grower not a shower.”
I almost hesitate. Almost talk myself out of this heinous plan. Almost.
In that flickering moment, with his attention on his dick, I become something I never thought possible. I pull the ax free and slam the blunt end of the blade into his pretty head. Hard.
He slumps to the ground, and my stomach clenches.
What have I done?
As blood oozes from the gash in his temple, the nurse in me screams to check his vitals and staunch the bleeding.
There’s no time. I need him incapacitated so he can’t stop me. It’s why I fucking knocked him unconscious.
Drawing a deep breath, I race down the steps and whirl toward the workshop.
Then I run.
11
Frankie
—
Running comes naturally to me. With proper shoes and music streaming from my earbuds, I can cover five miles before tapping into my second wind.
But running for my life? That’s an entirely different thing.
My legs don’t move fluidly. Every step feels disjointed and clunky. My boots land where they should, but the world passes in slow motion. There’s no zoning out. My brain’s too busy registering every minute action—the sound of my breaths, the weight of supplies shifting in my coat, the shape of the ax handle in my grip, and the sheer silence of the hills around me.
A glance over my shoulder confirms Wolfson hasn’t moved.
If I killed him…
Stop it. He’s fine. Just focus.
I burst into the workshop through the wide door and fall upon the snowmobile. The keys…Hell yes, they’re right there in the ignition.
The ax goes in the vehicle’s compartment. From the coat, I remove the gloves, tugging them on and wishing I could take more supplies, like the tools hanging on the walls and the gas containers by the door. But there’s no time and no easy way to carry them.
My breath puffs out in stormy clouds as I mount the machine and twist the key.
Starting the engine sounds like a crack of thunder to my ears.
They would’ve heard that in the cabin.
There’s no turning back.
Hitting the gas, I speed out into the cold and shoot southward. Hopefully, toward the little beaten path that leads to the shack. I know the general direction, and as long as I don’t get turned around, I’ll find it.
In my periphery, the bush plane blocks my view of the porch. But as I zoom past, I spot Wolfson.
He sits where I left him with his chest against his knees, holding his head. Awake but too wounded to chase.
Guilt cleaves through me, but it quickly evaporates beneath a surge of adrenaline and fear.
He’s not alone.
Denver, Kodiak, and Leonid stand beside him, watching me speed away. Denver crosses his arms. None of them move.
They’re letting me escape?
No. I don’t believe that for a second.
Denver has a plane. He only needs to circle overhead to locate me. I’ll stand out like a beacon in the barren landscape.
Unless I make it to that cabin before he does a fly-by.
I max out the speed and start to worry as the snow thins on the ground, giving way to dirt and dead shrubs. Can this thing operate on snowless terrain?
