Boot prints.
Half-filled already, but fresh enough.
I follow.
The wind howls through the trees, bending branches low and sending snow cascading down in heavy sheets. The deeper I go, the harder it becomes to track anything. His footprints blur into the landscape, erased almost as soon as I identify them.
“Elias, where are you?” I murmur under my breath.
My breath fogs in front of me.
The forest is dense. Twisting. Deceptive. I slow, forcing myself to think like he would.
He wouldn’t wander aimlessly.
He would move with purpose.
Toward the road?
Toward the next town?
Yes, he’d want out of my territory.
I try not to let the thought fester in my mind. I just need to make sure he’s safe. I’ll let him go. I promise to God if I find him safe and well, I’ll let him go.
I push further north as the storm intensifies.
My coat is soaked through within minutes. Snow clings to my hair, melts against my neck.
Then I see a freshly broken branch peaking from the snow. I move toward it.
A slope dips slightly ahead, and I descend carefully, boots sliding over hidden ice. The trees thin just enough to reveal something dark between them.
A structure. Relief hits so hard it nearly buckles my knees.
An old cabin crouches in the clearing, half-buried in snow. Smoke does not rise from the chimney. The windows are dark. My heart pounds violently in my chest. I cross the remaining distance in seconds and shove the door open.
It slams against the interior wall.
“Elias!” The word tears out of me.
Inside is dim and cold and still. For half a second I see nothing.
“Lucian?”
He’s in the corner of what passes for a bedroom, curled on a narrow cot, coat still on, arms wrapped tight around himself. His face is pale. Lips tinged faintly blue.
He looks up slowly.
Recognition floods his eyes.
“Lucian,” he breathes.
I drop to my knees in front of him so fast it hurts.
I have never knelt like this in my life.
Not in a boardroom.
