Page 126 of These Tears

And all of it have led nowhere.

No.

Not nowhere. I now know this is the wrong way. My mind begins mapping the world around me in a different way.

‘To the east,’ he continues, tone softening in a way that makes it worse, ‘there’s a town.’

My eyes snap back to his. He watches the reaction pass over my face. One corner of his mouth shifts when my eyes widen. He waits until I’ve already begun calculating before he speaks again.

‘Too far on foot. Much too far in this weather. Even without the blizzard coming in, you wouldn’t reach it before dark.’ His thumb brushes once over my wrist. ‘And dark out here hides things that are far better at surviving than you.’

My mouth goes dry.

‘Wolves,’ he pushes softly. ‘Cold. Exposure. Bad footing. A wrong turn. A broken ankle. Maybe even one very large, scruffy bear.’

The forest closes around that sentence.

‘People always said I’m more of a big scruffy bear,’ he’d said during one of my prison visits.

His words have become too real to pretend they’re theatrical. It’s no longer the story he told in the cabin with the fire burning and food on the table. I’ve seen the snow. Seen the terrain. Felt the cold. More than once.

Elias leans over until his mouth is near my temple, his embrace still neatly arranged for Anders’ eyes.

‘That is why the doors in the house aren’t bolted. That is why I let you look out of every window until you convince yourself there could be a way.’ His breath warms my skin. ‘Eventually, you will understand that there is none.’

A shiver rolls through me, so violent I feel it knock against his arms.

‘“The most painful state of being is remembering the future, particularly the one you’ll never have.” Søren Kierkegaard. Possibly.’

His grip tightens as he holds me, but he makes sure it doesn’t hurt.

‘When we’re back at the cabin, Anders will help me with the animals. You will play a good little woman, and you’ll tidy up the shitshow you left behind.’

I angle my chin, searching his eyes. Because I haven’t left anything behind.

‘And Leah—’ He inches closer to me. Holds like that as his throat works around a swallow. ‘Next time you decide to run – I won’t come after you. Do you understand what that means?’

My gaze curves around his shoulder and trails the endless white towards the horizon. I stop looking for a crack in it. My fingers clench his coat instead.

I incline my head because my voice has given out.

The snow has convinced me it can make me disappear. So have the trees. The distance. The silence where no road answers.

I knew Elias had brought me to a cage without a lock.

But now it feels truer than ever.

22

‘Thanks to you,’ Elias rumbles as we enter the cabin, ‘we’ve got more work cut out for us.’

I trail behind him with feet that no longer feel mine. Snow weighs down my boots, and every step pulls at the ache buried deep in my thighs from that punishing trek through the woods.

The warmth of the cabin is the first thing to assault me.

Then the smell.

Wet timber. Feathered musk.