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She pulled herself out from underneath the log and winced as the wind slapped her full in the face. And she’d thought it was bad in her shelter? This was so much worse. It devoured her in a cloud of snow, bit into her exposed skin, hungry for any taste of her. She hunched against it and walked one laborious step at a time, sinking into snow up to her knees. She wasn’t moving fast but took solace in the fact that her attacker faced the same elements. Even if he had snowshoes—which, let’s face it, he probably did—the wind would still slow him down, too. If she could make it back to Jim’s plane, she’d have a fighting chance.
Or maybe that was where he was waiting, knowing she had no other options. And could she actually take off and leave her dogs out here to survive on their own?
Shit.
She stopped moving and took a moment to catch her breath. It was like breathing in icy knives and she coughed.
She had to think, had to come up with a solid plan, but her brain wasn’t working, each thought bleeding sluggishly into the next.
Hypothermia.
She knew its effects and, on a primal level, knew she was suffering from the worst of it. If she didn’t find shelter, she wasn’t going to make it.
But she was tired.
So. Damn. Tired.
She staggered with her next step. Sank to her knees.
Maybe she should let the man kill her. Wouldn’t a bullet to the brain be faster and less painful than freezing to death?
No. She shook her head, ridding herself of the thought. She wasn’t suicidal anymore. She wanted to live. Not just survive, butlive. She wanted a life. She wanted friends and all the experiences she’d missed out on by being too frightened to face the world. She wanted laughter and love. Maybe even a family of her own. She wanted Ellis to be part of it all.
She loved him and if she gave up and died now, he’d never know.
Bree lifted her head and stared into the storm as it bellowed around her. The wind drowned out the constant voice of her mother saying she was ugly, damaged, worthless. For the first time, she heard only her own voice, andthatwoman— the woman her malignant cancer of a mother had never wanted her to become— was gorgeous in her strength. She wasn’t worthless or damaged beyond redemption. She was powerful. Stubborn. Angry. She was a goddamn survivor. This storm wasn’t going to end her. Nor was the man who wanted to kill her. She’d take them both on.
And shewouldwin.
Bree channeled all of her anger and forced her legs to move. She’d get back to Jim’s plane. Find his gun. Find her dogs. Survive until help arrived and then point the trooper right at the motherfucker who wanted her dead.
One step.
Another.
Another.
With each step, she felt stronger. She reveled in the cold like her huskies. She embraced the reckless courage spilling through her like Ellis would. She laughed into the wind like Dr. Will.
She wasn’t alone anymore. They were all with her every step of the way.
* * *
The storm tossedthe little helicopter around like a bouncy ball. Nate cursed colorfully from the back seat, but in the pilot’s seat, Damian was calm. Despite being only twenty-six, he handled the controls like a seasoned pro.
Ellis wanted to ask him how long he’d been flying, but they could barely hear each other over the storm, so he kept scanning the ground below with a set of binoculars he’d found under his seat. The helicopter jolted and suddenly dropped a couple hundred feet.
Nate yelped. “Holy fucking hell!”
Ellis’s heart lurched into his throat as he grabbed for anything solid. Which was stupid, because if they went down, anything he grabbed would be going down with them.
How many crashes can a guy survive? How many brushes with death were too many? He had to be pushing his limit.
“Ellis.” Even through the headset, Damian’s still-calm voice was nearly drowned out by the wind. “We have to turn back, or these downdrafts are going to kill us.”
Ellis breathed through the panic and raised the binoculars again with shaking hands. He couldn’t see much through the swirling snow. “How close are we to Mount Farewell?”
“As close as we’re gonna get. I’m sorry.”
