“They’ll be waiting at the obvious points—the road, my cabin,” Liam murmured, his eyes scanning the white landscape.“So we go the hard way. Down the back ridge. There’s an old logging trail that comes out near the highway, about five miles from here.”
Five miles. Through deep snow, with armed men hunting them. It felt impossible.
But as she looked at Liam, at the absolute resolve in his stance, she felt a spark of that same resolve ignite within her. She was not just a victim. She was a witness. And she had the proof.
“Okay,” she said, her voice steady for the first time since she’d heard that footstep in Havenwood.“Let’s go.”
They stepped out of the mine and into the glittering, silent forest. The hunt was on, but now, they were the hunters too, armed with a truth that could bring down a empire. And as they moved as one into the white wilderness, Elara knew the greatest suspense wasn’t in the chase, but in the terrifying, thrilling connection forging itself between them with every step they took together.
Chapter 8:
The Ambush on the Ridge
The back ridge was a knife's edge of wind-scoured rock and ice. They moved in a low crouch, Liam always in the lead, his eyes constantly scanning the treeline below. The silence was profound, broken only by the crunch of their boots and the ragged sound of their breathing. The heavy snowfall was a double-edged sword—it hid them, but it also hid their pursuers.
Elara’s muscles screamed in protest, but she pushed forward, driven by a fear that had been refined into a sharp, clear purpose. The metal box in her bag was no longer just proof; it was a live grenade, and they were running with the pin pulled.
Liam held up a fist, freezing. He pointed down the slope.
Through a gap in the pines, she saw them. Two figures in white winter camouflage, moving with a professional, sweeping precision. They had snowshoes and carried what looked like hunting rifles equipped with scopes. They were methodically working their way up the ridge, following a path that would inevitably intersect theirs.
“Thermal scopes,” Liam breathed, pulling her down behind a boulder.“They’ll see our heat signatures long before they see us.” He looked at her, his face grim.“We can’t outrun them. We have to go through them.”
Her blood ran cold.“Go through them?”
“They’re hired muscle. Probably ex-military. They have orders to retrieve the box and eliminate any witnesses.” His jaw was set.“I’m not letting that happen.”
He quickly outlined a plan. A desperate, dangerous gambit. He would create a diversion, drawing their fire, while she would use the cover to flank them and get a clear shot down the ridge towards the logging road.
“I can’t shoot someone, Liam!”
“You won’t have to,” he said, his voice calm and sure. He pressed his rifle into her hands.“You just need to make a lot of noise. Fire near them. Make them think there’s more than one of us. It might be enough to make them fall back.” He drew a large hunting knife from his belt.“I’ll handle the rest.”
Before she could protest, he was gone, melting into the landscape with a predator’s grace.
The wait was agony. She clutched the cold, unfamiliar weight of the rifle, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm. Then, a loud crack echoed from the other side of the ridge—Liam, throwing a large rock to draw their attention.
The two figures below immediately snapped into action, turning and moving towards the sound.
Now.
Elara stood, raised the rifle, and squeezed the trigger. The recoil slammed into her shoulder, startling her. The shot went wide, kicking up snow yards from the men. But it worked. They dove for cover, their attention now split.
Chaos erupted. A volley of shots rang out, aimed in Liam’s direction. Then, a cry of pain, cut short. One of the white-cladfigures stumbled out from behind a tree, clutching his arm. A dark stain spread across the white fabric.
Liam had drawn first blood.
The second man panicked, firing wildly into the trees where Liam had been. In his fear, he made a mistake. He exposed his back.
Elara saw her chance. She fired again, this time aiming closer. The shot hit a tree trunk right next to him, splintering the wood. He flinched, spinning around. For a terrifying second, he looked directly up the ridge, his scope seeming to lock onto her.
A shadow detached itself from the rocks behind him.
Liam.
It was over in seconds. A swift, brutal struggle, silent except for the grunt of effort and the sickening thud of a body hitting the snow. Then, silence.
Liam stood over the man, his chest heaving, the knife in his hand. He looked up at Elara, his expression unreadable from this distance. He gave a sharp, beckoning wave.
