"I do." He crosses to me, cupping my face with hands that smell of gasoline now. "Cal's been planning this for months, maybe years. Alright? He's a madman."
Tears freeze on my cheeks. "Your cabin?—"
"Was just a building made of wood and stone. I'll build a new one." His thumb brushes my cheek, swiping away a tear before it can turn to ice. "What I can't replace is you. And I got you out safe. Okay?"
He kisses me then, and I lean into it, needing the warmth and connection. When he pulls back, his eyes are serious.
"We should keep moving. Put more distance between us and them before we stop."
"Where are we even going?" I gesture out at the expanse of forest stretching on endlessly toward the north and Canada. "You can't go back to the cabin. The town is crawling with Cal's people. You don't have your phone to call for help. So, where do we go from here?"
He's quiet as he stares down at the snowmobile. I already know what he's thinking. Once that thing runs out of gas, we're stranded wherever we are. We have no phones because we had to leave so hastily and there was no service at the cabin, which means we didn't carry them around with us. And without a map or any way to navigate, we have no clue where we're at outside of climbing to a peak to hope we can get a glimpse of a town somewhere.
So traveling in the dark is dangerous. We could get lost, go through the frozen waters of a lake or river, or worse, barrel right into Maddox's men.
"We need to think this through," I say. "And we can't do that while we're exhausted and running on adrenaline. We need rest."
"Rest?" He looks at me incredulously. "We don't have time to rest. Cal's people could be tracking us right now."
"With what? We're miles into the mountains on a snowmobile. They'd need aircraft to follow us, and they can't fly in this weather." I gesture at the sky, where clouds are gathering to hopefully drop more snow and cover our tracks. "Even if they could, it's dark. They can't see us without infrared tech. We're safe enough here for a few hours. And if we keep pushing without sleep, we're going to make mistakes. Fatal ones."
"You want to camp. In November. In the mountains." His tone makes it clear what he thinks of this idea. The moon overhead is so dark, it's hard to really make out his expression. If not for the snow reflecting what little light is illuminating us, I wouldn’t even know where he's standing. But I know by his tone that he thinks I'm stupid.
"I'm a survivalist, Dane. I go hiking and camping year-round. I know how to build shelter, how to stay warm, how to survive in conditions worse than this." I cross my arms, refusing to back down. "You're good at a lot of things. But right now, this is my area of expertise. And I'm telling you that we need to stop."
He wants to argue. I can tell by the hostile pause and the way he shifts his weight. He's used to being in charge, making decisions, controlling situations. But up here, in this environment, I'm the one with the knowledge.
"Fine." The word comes out grudgingly. "But we're up at first light, and we're moving fast."
"Deal."
I survey the area, looking for the best spot to build shelter. There's a cluster of pines on the leeward side of a small rise—good protection from the wind. The snow is deep but manageable, and the trees will provide both camouflage and insulation.
"Help me build a snow shield," I instruct. "We're going to create a basic shelter, get the snowmobile hidden, and hunker down until morning."
We work together, using branches and packed snow to create a windbreak. I show him how to hollow out a space in a drift, how to reinforce it with packed snow, how to create an entrance that blocks wind but allows ventilation. He follows my instructions without complaint, and I can feel his surprise as the structure takes shape.
And I'm thankful for his strength because if I had to do this myself, I'd burn too many calories and fall into hypothermic conditions too quickly. We work less than thirty minutes and have a manageable shelter. It's small, and we'll have to snuggle close to really stay warm, but it's one of the better makeshift shelters I've ever seen. For a survival situation, it's more than adequate.
"This is actually going to work," he mutters, packing more snow around the entrance.
"I told you I know what I'm doing." I gather pine boughs to line the floor, creating insulation from the frozen ground, then turn back to him. "Now help me camouflage the snowmobile."
We drag it closer to the trees and cover it with branches until it's nearly invisible. Anyone searching from the air would havetrouble spotting it, and ground pursuit would have to be on foot moving too slowly to catch us, or on snowmobile, which means we'd hear them miles away. Plenty of time to be gone and hidden before they got to us.
By the time we finish, I'm sweating inside my layers and I know that's dangerous. The shelter's small, barely big enough for both of us, but it'll keep us alive. I crawl inside first, testing the space, then motion for Dane to follow.
He has to duck low to fit, and when he's inside he stops, surprised. "It's warm in here."
"Snow is an excellent insulator. Body heat gets trapped, and as long as we're out of the wind, we'll maintain a decent temperature." I pull out the emergency blanket from the go bag—thin mylar that reflects body heat. "But we need to sleep close together and share warmth. It's the only way this works." I'm not complaining about that part at all.
Having Dane's arms around me is one thing that makes me feel safe, and I suspect it will be no different here on the mountain. So when he settles in beside me and I drape the blanket over both of us, I finally breathe a sigh of relief. We're pressed together shoulder to hip to knee, no space between us,, and in the confined darkness, I can hear his breathing, feel his heart beating against my shoulder.
"This is insane," he says and his voice sounds thoughtful, not upset like I suspect. "We're in an igloo on the side of a mountain, hiding from a crime family, and somehow, I'm not freezing to death."
"Told you I knew what I was doing." I shift closer, tucking myself against his side. His arm comes around me automatically,pulling me in. "My dad taught me all this when I was a kid. Survival skills, outdoor camping, how to read terrain and weather. He said you never know when you might need to save your own life."
"Your dad sounds like a smart man," Dane says softly. His mouth is right by my ear, and his hot breath dusts my cheek.
