Winter’s darkness fell hard and fast in the Rockies, and a few dozen yards in the wrong direction could mean a slide down an impossibly steep cliff. A broken neck. Frostbite. Hypothermia. People died out here all the time, just because they’d gotten distracted for a single minute and lost track of their surroundings.
With my thoughts still consumed by Hawke, I didn’t even know how long I’d been walking. An hour? Three? Six?
Suddenly, it was as dark as the end of days. The wind was picking up again, my feet soaked through and going numb.
I was—despite my map-reading skills and epic determination to blaze my own trail—utterly, impossibly lost.
And if that wasn’t bad enough, I missed him. More than anything, I freakingmissedhim.
Tears froze into two icy tracks down my cheeks.
Oh, Maddie Lockwood, sometimes you are just too stupid to live.
