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Rhett’s cabin.

The storm.

The mountain.

Another sound crunches outside.

Footsteps.

Slow.

Deliberate.

Circling.

Every muscle in my body locks.

I hold my breath automatically, listening harder as the sound drifts past the side of the cabin again, boots grinding through fresh snow.

Not an animal.

Too heavy.

Too measured.

Fear crawls cold and fast down my spine.

Then I hear something else.

Metal sliding against metal.

I turn sharply toward the bedroom doorway just as a beam of moonlight flashes briefly across Rhett’s silhouette moving through the darkness.

He’s already awake.

I can barely make him out, but I hear the quiet click of a rifle loading somewhere near the hall.

The sound terrifies me more than the footsteps do.

Because it means he thinks this is real too.

“Rhett?” My voice comes out thinner than I want it to.

Immediately, he’s there.

The bedroom doorway fills with him, broad shoulders blocking out the pale blue storm light coming through the hall windows. His rifle rests loosely in one hand, his expression unreadable and focused in a way that makes my stomach tighten harder.

“Stay in bed,” he says quietly.

Another crunch outside.

Closer this time.

My pulse spikes. “Someone’s out there.”

“Yeah.”

The calmness in his voice should make me feel better.