"For a while."
I pull my legs up onto the couch, tucking myself into the corner, and Morgan drapes a blanket over me without asking, his movements gentle and sure. The fire crackles softly, the wind howls outside, and for the first time in months my body allows itself to consider real sleep.
Chapter 3 – Morgan
Daylight changes everything. Last night, the storm gave us cover, limited sight lines, impossible tracking, roads closed by weather that kept everyone pinned where they were.
But now the world is laid bare under hard winter sun, and every footprint shows, every tire track cuts deep grooves that anyone with eyes can follow, and movement that was hidden twelve hours ago will be seen for miles.
If Megan's ex is still hunting, this brightness makes us targets instead of shadows.
I drain the rest of my coffee and set the mug down harder than I mean to, the ceramic clinking against the windowsill. Keeping Megan here was the right call last night, but staying isolated now is a different calculation entirely.
I run through alternatives the way I always do, sorting options by risk and discarding the ones that don't hold up under scrutiny.
The answer settles in my gut, we're going back.
Behind me, I hear the soft creak of floorboards and turn to find Megan standing in the doorway to the living room, wrapped in the blanket from last night and still wearing my clothes. Her hair is tangled from sleep, her face pale but slightly calmer than it was before.
"Morning," I say, keeping my voice low and even.
"Morning," she echoes, her voice still rough with sleep. She glances at the window, at the brightness beyond, and I watch her shoulders tense just slightly as if the exposure bothers her too. "The storm stopped."
"Yeah." I move away from the window, giving her space to process. "Which means we need to head back into town. Staying out here isn't safe enough anymore."
"Okay," she says simply.
We're on the road twenty minutes later, the truck cutting through snow that hasn't been plowed yet, and the drive back into Whitetail Falls feels different in daylight, more exposed. Megan sits quietly in the passenger seat, hands folded in her lap, staring out at the white landscape without speaking, and I let the silence hold because there's nothing that needs saying right now.
When we pull up to the clubhouse, the place looks less mythic than it did last night under storm and darkness. The brick building sits solid in the cold morning light, snow piled high along the edges of the parking lot where someone's already been out with a plow blade, and bikes line the far wall under a makeshift awning that keeps them clear of the worst drifts. Smoke rises from the chimney, and through the front windows I can see movement inside.
I park near the door and glance at Megan. "You ready?"
She nods and we head inside together.
The warmth hits immediately, along with the smell of coffee and something frying in the kitchen. Men move through the space with purpose, Grave checking something on his bike near the back, Miller bent over a map spread across one of the tables, Price hauling in firewood and stacking it neatly by the hearth.
Conversations don't stop when we walk in, but there's a subtle shift in attention, heads turning briefly before returning to whatever they were doing.
Hansen looks up from where he's standing near the kitchen and lifts his chin in acknowledgment. “Coffee's fresh. Food in ten if you want it."
Megan nods her thanks, and I guide her toward the couch near the fire, the same spot she collapsed into last night. She sinks down slowly, still wrapped in the blanket, and I watch as her gaze tracks the room.
Grave ambles over after a few minutes, coffee mug in hand, and drops into the chair across from us.
"You good?" he asks finally, his voice gruff but not unkind.
Megan hesitates, then nods. "Yeah. Thank you."
Grave grunts acknowledgment and shifts his attention to me. "Roads?"
"Passable if you're careful," I tell him. "Main routes are clear enough, but the back roads are a mess. Give it another day before trying anything off the grid."
He nods, processing this, and then Miller appears at the table with Luke trailing behind him, both of them moving with the kind of focus that means something's shifted since last night. Hansen joins them without being called, and I feel my attention sharpen.
Luke spreads something across the table. He glances toward me and tips his head slightly, an invitation that doesn't need words.
I look at Megan. "I'll be right back."
