But then I remember the way he looked at me in the kitchen. The heat in his eyes, yes, but also something softer. Something almost vulnerable.
Which version is real? Or are they both real?
I roll onto my side, pulling the blanket tighter. The cabin is quiet except for the wind outside and the occasional creak of old wood settling.
But underneath it all, I can feel the tension. The waiting. Something is coming.
Maybe I'm safer with him. Maybe his presence is the only thing keeping whoever's out there at bay. Maybe without him, I'd already be dead.
Or maybe I'm lying in bed, separated by a single door from the most dangerous thing in these mountains.
I close my eyes, trying to will myself to sleep. Trying to silence the questions that won't stop spinning through my head.
The gunshot shatters the silence like breaking glass.
It echoes through the valley, close enough that the cabin windows rattle in their frames. Close enough that there's no mistaking it for anything else.
Someone just fired a gun. And they're close.
Very close.
14
ALEKSANDR
I'm through the door before the echo of the gunshot fades, rifle in hand, my body moving on pure instinct. Maya's bedroom door flies open behind me, and I hear her sharp intake of breath, but I don't look back. Can't look back. Every sense I have is focused on the darkness beyond the windows, cataloging threats, calculating angles.
"Stay inside," I bark over my shoulder. "Lock the door behind me."
"Sasha, wait?—"
But I'm already out, the cold air hitting my face like a slap. The moon is high enough to cast shadows across the snow, turning the landscape into a patchwork of silver and black. My breath forms clouds as I move along the tree line, the rifle comfortable in my hands despite the fact that I shouldn't know how to hold it this well.
Another shot cracks through the night, further away this time. East, maybe half a mile. I freeze, listening, my heart steadydespite the adrenaline flooding my system. There's no follow-up. No shouting. No sounds of pursuit or panic.
Just silence settling back over the mountains like a blanket.
I stay out there for another twenty minutes, circling the cabin in widening arcs, checking for any sign that someone's been close enough to be a threat. But there's nothing.
When I finally go back inside, Maya's standing in the living room with another rifle I didn't even know she had, her blonde hair mussed from sleep.
"Well?" Her voice is steady, but I can see the fear in those dark blue eyes.
"Nothing. Whoever fired those shots wasn't close enough to be an immediate threat." I set the rifle down and run a hand through my hair. "Could be hunters. Could be someone trying to flush us out."
"At three in the morning?"
"People hunt at weird hours." But I don't believe it, and neither does she. "I'll look for tracks in the morning when there's light to see by."
We don't go back to sleep. We sit at the kitchen table, drinking coffee that's too strong and too bitter, watching the windows for movement that never comes. Maya's foot bounces under the table, a nervous habit I've noticed before. I want to reach over and still it, to pull her into my lap and promise her everything will be fine.
But I can't promise that. Not when I don't even know who I am or who is after us. Or if they're after her or me.
Dawn comes slowly, painting the snow in shades of pink and gold. The moment there's enough light to see by, I'm pulling on my boots.
"I'm going to check it out," I tell Maya. "See if I can find where those shots came from."
"I'm coming with you."
