Chapter one
Abigail
TheATVrattlesbeneathus as it cuts through the woods, the suspension groaning every time we hit a rut hidden beneath the snow. Branches scrape along the sides, sharp and shrill, and cold air leaks in through every seam of the enclosed cab. The engine drones steadily, too loud in the quiet night, vibrating through the seat and straight into my bones.
I can’t see anything through the hood, but I can feel the way the ground changes beneath the tires—packed snow giving way to softer drifts, the machine slowing, pushing harder. Time stretches strangely. It’s been long enough that my wrists ache where the plastic bites against my skin. Long enough that I’m sure the guys have noticed I’ve been gone for too long. Long enough that a terrible part of my brain wonders if maybe they aren’t on their way.
Then one of the men in front mutters, “We should’ve already hit the access road.”
“Would you relax?” the other snaps. “We’re close. Just gotta cut through the trees.”
The ATV lurches slightly as they veer between tighter trees. I sway with the movement, my shoulder brushing Kat’s. She’s shaking beside me—whether from fear or cold, I don’t know. Probably both.
Suddenly, one of the men hisses, “Did you see that?”
“See what?” the other asks.
“There—back there.”
The engine pitch changes as the driver eases off the throttle—my pulse stutters.
“I didn’t see anything,” the other says too fast. “Don’t slow down.”
Then, through the fabric of the hood, I see it too. A brief sweep of brightness flashes through the trees behind us.
Light.
“What the fuck is that?” one of them asks.
“Keep going. It could be the cops. We can’t—”
Another beam slices through the dark. Closer now.
“That’s not the cops,” the other says.
There’s a pause. It’s heavy. Charged.
“They’re on horses,” someone breathes. “Fuck.”
“Turn,” the passenger snaps as the ATV picks up speed. “Turn now.”
“I don’t want to go off course. We’ll lose—”
“Turn the fucking wheel!”
The steering wheel jerks hard to the left, and the ATV bucks hard beneath us, the sudden jolt snapping my head forward as the tires spin uselessly in the snow. They turn again. It’s sharp this time, and my shoulder slams into the door. Pain flares, bright and hot, but I bite down on the sound trying to claw its way out of me.
Then… the ATV sinks.
Not slowly.
All at once.
The front dips, the back fishtails, and the whole thing shudders to a dead stop.
Voices explode from the front seat. “Fuck—fuck!It’s not movin’!”
“Gun it!”
