"Hold on!" Magnus shouts over the roar of wind and engine.
Like I have any other choice. My thighs burn from gripping the seat. My arms shake from fighting to keep us steady on terrain that's getting rougher. Magnus presses closer against myback. He's a solid weight. An anchor in the chaos. His arm stays extended, ready to fire again if needed.
More gunfire. Closer now. A bullet punches through the windscreen and plastic shatters across my lap. The edges are sharp. I duck my head but keep the throttle pinned. I can't slow down. Slowing down means dying.
Another bullet whines past my ear. It's so close I feel the displacement of air. My stomach lurches. Death is missing by inches.
Ahead, rocky outcrops rise from the snow. Massive boulders are creating a natural maze. I aim for them without hesitation. The terrain gets rougher. Our snowmobile bounces over hidden obstacles. We're going too fast for this. If I hit something wrong, we'll flip.
I navigate through a gap between two boulders with barely any clearance. Then we're in the rocks. We're sheltered. I kill the engine.
"Off! Now!" Magnus is already moving, grabbing his rifle. "We go on foot!"
I scramble off on shaking legs. Magnus grabs my hand and pulls me deeper into the rocks. We're running. My research conditioning kicks in. I have months of hiking through wilderness with heavy packs. My body knows how to do this even when my mind is screaming about bullets and hunters and death.
We reach a position where the rocks form a natural fortification. Magnus pushes me down behind cover. His rifle comes up, the barrel resting on stone. His breathing is controlled. He's focused. Cold efficiency replaces everything else.
"Stay down." His voice is flat. It's empty of everything except command. "Don't move unless I tell you."
I nod and press myself against the rock. I try to make myself small. The hunters' engines grow louder. Then they cut off. Silence falls, heavy and waiting. I can hear my own breathing. My heart is hammering. The wind is whistling through the rocks.
Then there's movement. Shadows against snow. Men are spreading out in professional formation. Their weapons are up. They know we're here. They're taking their time.
Magnus's finger rests on the trigger. His eye is at the scope. He's absolutely still. He's patient. He's a predator waiting for prey to make a mistake.
A man steps into view. His rifle is raised. He's scanning the rocks where we're hidden. He's confident. He's professional. He doesn't know death is watching him.
Magnus fires.
The crack splits the silence. The man's head snaps back. His body drops. He's gone. Just like that. A life ended in the time it takes to blink.
My stomach clenches. I've never watched someone die before. Not like this. Not violent. Not sudden. The reality of it crashes over me. That was a person. Someone with a life. A family maybe. Now just a corpse in the snow.
The shot echoes. The other hunters scatter, diving for cover. Return fire sparks off stone near our position. Chips of rock spray. Magnus doesn't flinch. He doesn't react. He shifts his aim like he's at a shooting range. He's tracking. He's waiting for the next target.
He's cold. He's efficient. This is what he is. What he does. He's a killer.
Another man moves. He tries to advance on our position. Magnus fires. The man jerks and goes down. Red blooms across white snow. Two are dead. The second shot is as calm as the first.
My hands shake where they're pressed against stone. It's adrenaline. It's fear. It's something else I don't want to name.Magnus just killed two men and he's as steady as if he's making coffee.
A third man tries to flank us. He's coming around the rocks. It's smart. It would have worked if Magnus wasn't expecting it. Magnus tracks him through the scope. He leads the target. He accounts for distance and wind. He squeezes the trigger with the same careful precision as the first two shots. The man collapses mid-step. He never saw it coming.
Three are dead. Maybe thirty seconds total. It's professional. It's precise. There are no wasted shots.
Silence falls again. Minutes pass. Nothing moves except wind-driven snow. Magnus stays in position. Finally he lowers the rifle slightly.
"Stay here." He's moving before I can argue. He slips between the rocks. He's checking the bodies. He's making sure there are no more threats.
I stay pressed against the stone, shaking now that the immediate danger has passed. The adrenaline crash is hitting hard. Magnus just killed three men with the same efficiency most people use to chop vegetables. There was no hesitation. There was no remorse.
Magnus comes back and drops to his knees beside me. His hands are on me immediately. They're rough. They're checking. He's patting down my arms, my legs, my torso.
"Are you hit?" His voice is shaking. It's the only crack in the cold exterior. "Tell me. Are you hurt?"
"I'm fine. I'm not hit." I grab his hands and stop the frantic checking. "I'm okay."
Magnus pulls me against his chest hard. His face buries in my neck. His whole body is trembling. He was terrified for me. Not for himself. For me.
