I pull back and cup his face with both hands. I force him to look at me. Then I kiss him hard. I'm claiming him. I'm refusing to let the darkness of what happened separate us.
"I'm okay." I say it against his mouth. "We're okay."
Magnus kisses me back with desperate hunger. His hands are fisting in my coat. When he pulls back, his expression is raw in a way I've never seen.
"We need to move." He's forcing himself back into operational mode. "More could be coming. We salvage what we can and go."
Magnus stands and pulls me up. He leads me back to where the bodies lie in the snow. I look away but he doesn't. He goes through their pockets with matter-of-fact efficiency. He takes ammunition. He takes supplies. He takes a sat phone. He takes cash. He takes anything useful.
This is his world. Survival means using every advantage. Even the ones that come from dead men. I'm choosing this. I'm choosing him. I'm choosing this world of violence and running.
We continue on foot. The snowmobile is abandoned. It's too easy to track. Magnus navigates by instinct and knowledge. He checks landmarks I can't identify. He's heading north toward wherever this safe haven is supposed to be.
The hours drag. The cold is brutal. My legs burn. My lungs ache. But I don't complain. I don't ask to stop. Because stopping means dying and I'm not ready for that.
Eventually Magnus stops at what looks like a random spot in the wilderness. There are no markers I can see. But he pulls out a sat phone from his pack.
He dials a specific sequence. He waits. There's no greeting. "Icarus. North approach. ETA ten minutes."
There's a pause. Then a voice I can barely hear. Magnus nods and ends the call.
"He'll meet us." Magnus shoulders his pack again. "Or shoot us. Fifty-fifty."
"That's reassuring."
"Zeb doesn't like surprises. But he won't kill us without hearing us out first."
We walk for several more minutes. The terrain shifts. We're climbing now. There are rocky outcrops and sparse trees. Then I see them. Markers. They're deliberately placed. They're territory boundaries.
Magnus stops at the markers. He waits. He doesn't cross. He doesn't call out. His hands are visible and away from weapons. I follow his lead.
Then he's there. Like he materialized from the landscape itself. A man who moves like he's part of the wilderness. He's tall. He's built solid. He has a rifle in hand. His eyes assess everything in seconds.
He recognizes Magnus but doesn't lower the weapon. "You brought trouble to my mountain."
"Trouble found me." Magnus's voice is even. "She needs protection until we can get her evidence out."
His eyes shift to me. The assessment is thorough. It's clinical. "You're the biologist. Caryn mentioned you." His expression shifts. It's not quite a smile. But the hostility eases. "She's my woman. She's in the cabin. She'll want to help."
He lowers the rifle and turns without another word. He starts walking. Magnus follows. I have no choice but to keep up.
The cabin appears without warning. It's camouflaged so well I nearly miss it until we're close. It's built into the mountainside. It's fortified in ways that suggest excellent tactical planning.
The door opens before we reach it. A woman steps out. It's a familiar face that I haven't seen in years. Caryn. My friend who disappeared. Who we all assumed was dead.
My breath stops. My heart stutters. It can't be. It can't be her. But it is.
She's alive. She's thriving. She's happy in a way I never saw during our academic days when we were drowning in research and deadlines and the pressure to publish or perish. She sees me and her face lights up. There's genuine joy. There's recognition.
"Neve?" She's crossing the distance between us. "Oh my God, Neve!"
Then I'm being hugged hard. She's real. She's solid. She's warm. She's here. She smells like woodsmoke and pine and coffee. She's alive. She's actually alive.
Tears burn my eyes. My throat closes. "I thought you were dead." The words come out choked. They're broken. "We all thought you were dead. There was a memorial service. Your family—God, Caryn, your family."
"I know. I'm sorry." She pulls back and looks me over. She takes in my condition. Exhaustion is written all over me. There's dirt and blood probably. There are haunted eyes definitely. "Come inside. You're freezing. We'll get you warm and then we'll figure this out."
My legs want to give out. Seeing her. After all this time. After believing she was gone. Relief and anger and confusion are all tangled together. "How could you just disappear? How could you let us think?—"
