He had the same gravelly voice from her apartment. He sounded too calm. Too intimate. Too much like he’d been waiting years to speak to her like this.
It had been three days. At least, shethoughtit had been three days.
She wasn’t sure of anything anymore.
“Are you warm enough?” the man asked.
“N—no,” she whispered.
Would he actually give her a blanket? She craved warmth.
“Good.” He picked up something from the table. It looked like an old metal kitchen timer, the kind that ticked loudly. “Cold keeps you alert.”
Her stomach dropped. What did that mean? Why did he have a timer?
“What do you want with me?” Her voice cracked.
“Clarity. Most people don’t make it very far. But I have a feeling you’ll be more interesting.”
Most people?
The room around her began to spin.
This guy had done this before.
This wasn’t a random sicko. This man was working on perfecting his crime.
Her pulse thundered in her ears.
“But first, the rules.” He adjusted the timer and set it on the table. “You’ll have a twenty-minute head start.”
Gina froze. “What . . . what does that mean? A head start for what?”
“It means you’ll run,” he said. “And I’ll wait twenty minutes before I come after you.”
The room tilted, and she gripped the floorboards to ground herself.
This was a game, she realized. A sick, twisted game.
The man stepped aside and cracked open the cabin door.
Wind instantly howled inside, carrying the scent of pine, snow, and something older—wild, untouched wilderness.
Beyond the threshold stretched a darkness so complete it felt alive.
Mountains. Endless mountains.
No roads. No sign of anything human.
“Run,” he murmured, “while you can.”
A low chuckle drifted from behind the blinding light.
Gina didn’t think.
She didn’t breathe.
She just bolted through the doorway, stumbled down the creaking steps, and plunged into the night.
