The betrayal doesn't surprise me. This is the world I operate in. People sell what they know when the price is right. Smithfield calculated his odds and chose the money. Smart business decision on his part.
Doesn't mean I won't put a bullet in him when this is over.
I switch off the radio but keep the emergency frequency open, then switch to a channel I know Zeb monitors. I keep my transmission brief and coded.
"Beast. This is Icarus. Compromised. Cache locations burned. Coming in hot with company. ETA tomorrow night. Bringing a package."
Static. Then Zeb's voice. Rough. Not pleased. "How hot?"
"Professional hunters. Well-funded. Package is priority target."
Long silence. Then: "Come in from the north approach. I'll be watching."
The transmission ends. Zeb's not happy about me bringing trouble to his door. But he won't turn us away. Won't leave Neve exposed when I show up asking for shelter.
That's what matters.
Neve's still asleep against me. Unaware that we just became even more of a target. That the hunters know where we might run.
The temperature drops as night deepens. I drift at some point. Not sleep. Just the edge of it. Enough to rest without losing awareness.
Then I'm awake. Completely awake. Instantly alert.
Something's wrong.
I don't move. Don't give away that I've noticed. Just extend my senses beyond the snow cave. Listening.
There.
The sound is faint but distinct. Movement. Footsteps in snow despite whoever it is trying to stay quiet. They're circling the area with professional precision.
They've found us.
My hand moves to the pistol at my hip. Slow. Silent. Neve's still asleep. I cover her mouth with my hand. Gentle pressure. Enough to wake her without startling.
Her eyes snap open. Instant alertness. Her body tenses.
I lean close. Lips against her ear. Breath barely a whisper. "They're here. Outside. Don't move. Don't make noise."
She nods against my hand. I release her slowly.
The footsteps continue circling. They haven't found the entrance yet. The snow I packed looks like natural drift in the dark. But dawn's coming. The light will expose us.
The snowmobile is too far away. Breaking camp will make noise. Based on the footsteps, there are at least three of them, maybe more. Any movement will give us away.
"When I say move, you run for the snowmobile." My voice is barely audible. "Don't wait. Don't look back. Get on and start it."
"I'm not leaving you." Whisper-quiet but absolute.
"You'll do what I tell you. I'll cover you. But you be ready to run."
She's about to argue. Before she can speak, the footsteps stop.
Silence.
Then a voice. Male. Professional. Close.
"Check that drift. Something about it doesn't look right."
