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When I go back out to the main room, Kane has put on his sweatpants and moved to the kitchen to make breakfast.
“So, I got to thinking… Maybe you should find some space for a few of my things around here. Clean out a drawer in your dresser?”
“Or you could have a dresser of your own,” he says, bringing the fire to life on the stove top.
Giddy to make it happen, I ask, “Do you think the roads will be clear soon?”
“Maybe,” Kane says, turning the nob on the stove top to kill the fire even though he hasn’t cooked anything yet and walks cautiously toward the window that overlooks the front yard.
“What are you—?” I start but pinch my lips shut when Kane shushes me with a finger pressed to his lips.
That’s when I hear it. The buzz of engines. Not car or truck engines though. More like lawn mowers.
Kane holds me back with a hand on my stomach, but I get a glimpse out the window at the three men on snowmobiles, tearing toward the cabin a split second before Kane turns and tackles me to the ground, yelling, “Get down,” as glass shatters and rains over us.
“Take cover,” Kane orders over the repeated thunk of bullets against the side of the cabin and points at the kitchen island with his empty hand. In his other hand, is a pistol. I don’t even know how it got there. Or what the hell is happening, but as fast as I can and without regard for the glass all around me, I crawl around the island and sit there with my arms crossed over my head like I’m bracing for the roof to cave in.
Cold air rushes in.
Shit. The door is open.
Shots are fired. A fleshy thud hits the floor. From the grunt when he fell, I know it’s not Kane.
But they’re coming in. We have to get out. “Come on, Kane,” I plead, wanting him to follow me out the back of the cabin.
“Stay there,” Kane barks as I start to crawl toward the hallway.
I don’t know where we’d go. Even if we got out. If whoever these people are don’t catch us, with what little we’re wearing, we’ll freeze to death in no time. So, I stay put and try not to think about how Kane just killed that man.
My ears are ringing from all the gun fire and my stomach churns, ready to erupt.
Then, when it feels like the fight will never end, it’s quiet.
Peeking around the counter, I find myself alone.
No body. Kane’s gone.
My heart races. Sweat coats my tongue.
Not again. He swore he wouldn’t leave me. Worse yet, he left me unarmed, surrounded by men hellbent on killing me for reasons I can’t begin to guess.
The need to throw up is real now. Turning back, rocking and hugging myself, sick swims up into my throat. I’m going to die out here. All alone. On Christmas Day.
“Alice,” Kane shouts, stealing my breath as a pistol slides to a stop next to me after another thud of a body hitting the floor rattles the walls.
“Kane,” I breathe as I leave my cover to grab the gun.
He didn’t leave me and he needs my help.
I don’t know what I’m doing. What I’ll be aiming at. If I’ll have the guts to pull the trigger. But I pick up the pistol and raise it toward the commotion by the door.
The world stands still. I never could have prepared myself for what I find in my sights. An enormous, dark gray wolf stalking a man holding a very large knife.
At first, I don’t know what to do. Wracked with fear as I stare down a beast that could take one leap and kill me in an instant. I’m not even sure the gun in my hand can take it down.
Before my mind spirals any further out of control, there’s an odd but familiar tug on my heart. Like the one I felt when I lay freezing in bed the other night. It pulls me to the wolf the same way it pulled me to Kane.
That’s when I know, even though I don’t know how I know, that the wolf isn’t a threat to me.
