He worked fast, fingers moving over the knots as he untied them. “Are you hurt?”
“No,” Uncle Herb said. “Just . . . shaken.”
Max pulled out his pocketknife, cut the last binding loose, and helped them pull free.
As he did, Billie grabbed his arm. “That girl—Kendra—chased Hadley from the house. She needs your help.”
Max’s chest tightened. “When?”
“Just a few minutes ago,” Aunt Billie said. “It was after we heard the shot. Hadley tried to stop her. They fought. Then Kendra chased Hadley outside.”
Max’s gaze snapped toward the door.
“She ran toward the woods,” Uncle Herb added.
Max took a step toward the door. But he hesitated as he caught a better look at his uncle.
He was pale and sweating.
“Your blood sugar . . .” Max realized.
“It’s dropped,” Aunt Billie said. “I told Kendra, but she didn’t care.”
Max rushed to the kitchen cabinets. He knew where Uncle Herb kept his glucose tablets.
He found the one his uncle needed, grabbed it, and hurried back.
“Here,” he said, helping to slip it into Uncle Herb’s mouth. “Easy.”
Uncle Herb’s hands shook as he chewed the tablet, and Max stayed there just long enough to make sure he was steadying. Every second felt like too much.
“Go,” Aunt Billie said, her voice firmer now. “Max, go. Kendra isn’t right, and Hadley needs you.”
Max looked between them, torn for the briefest moment. “I can’t just leave you?—”
“We’ll be fine.” Uncle Herb’s voice sounded stronger now, though still strained. “Your friend needs you more.”
Max hesitated one more second. Then he nodded. “I’ll send someone back. Lock the door behind me.”
He didn’t wait for a response. He turned and ran.
The cold hit Max the moment he stepped outside, but he barely felt it. His gaze swept the ground, searching, hunting.
He saw the tracks in the snow.
There were two sets.
One was lighter, uneven. Probably Hadley’s.
The other was steady and pursuing. Kendra.
Max followed them, his stride lengthening as he headed toward the tree line. The forest loomed ahead, dark and dense, swallowing the last of the light.
He didn’t slow.
Branches scraped at him as he pushed through, his boots crunching over snow and hidden debris. His breath came hard now, but he forced himself to stay focused.
The tracks were clear at first. Fresh. Easy to follow.
