But how can I tell her either thing? The truth would ruin what I want. The truth and more might ruin what she wants.
So I say nothing in the end.
I press my mouth to the top of her head and I keep my hand moving. I let the question sit there in the quiet between us, unanswered. I don't have it in me to lie to her and I don't have it in me to tell her the truth.
She doesn't push. That's how I know she already understands. She just sighs against me, and after a moment, her hand finds my left one in the dark and her fingers slide between mine and she holds on.
That's when the engines roar.
27
CAROLINE
Afon is up off the blanket and into his boots before I can even sit up, the Remington at the ready is in his hands. He's at the edge of the camp, head cocked, listening to the sound.
"Stay here," he tells me without looking back. "Stay low. Wolf, with me."
Then he's gone into the trees, Wolf bounding along at his heel, both of them swallowed by the white.
I pull the flannel back on with shaking hands and get my pants hiked up. My ankle throbs but I barely feel it. I crouch behind the duffel and try to make myself as small as humanly possible. The engine sound rises and falls. One snowmobile, maybe two. They're not close yet. But they're not far, either.
And then a tinny little beep pierces the air.
It's a sound I've never heard before. A flat, electronic warble, muffled, coming from inside Afon's jacket where he dropped it by the blanket.
I freeze. It rings again.
I know instantly what it is.
I shouldn't touch it. It's his. Whatever's on that phone, it's the thing he's been hiding from me this whole time, and he'd rather bleed for it than fill me in.
But when it rings a third time…
… well, at that point, I have no choice.
I lunge for the jacket, dig through the pocket, and pull it out. I don't think before I pressAccept."Hello?"
There's a pause on the other end. A long one. When the man speaks, his voice is deep, even, and very, very calm. "This is not Afon."
"No. No, it's—" My heart is going so fast I can barely speak. "Who is this?"
"I think the better question," the man replies, "is who are you, and why are you answering Afon Satyrin's phone?"
"My name is Caroline. Caroline Oglethorpe. I'm—" I look toward the trees where Afon disappeared. "I'm with him. We're in trouble. We need help."
The pause this time is shorter. "Oglethorpe," he repeats. "Bill and Susan's girl."
"Yes." My breath catches. "You knew my parents?"
"I knew of them," he says cryptically. "My name is Lukas Lazarev. Afon used to work for me. He has my number for one reason and one reason only, which is that he is in the kind of trouble he can't get out of alone. Tell me what's happening."
I almost laugh. Lukas Lazarev. The man Afon wouldn't call. The cavalry Afon would rather die than summon.
"There are men hunting us," I explain as fast as I can. "Viktor Reznik. He rebuilt something called the Lastochka and now, he wants Afon dead. They abducted me, they burned Afon's cabin, they've been chasing us for days. We're in the mountains above Pike Hollow and I think they found us. I can hear the snowmobiles. Afon went to look. Please?—"
"Stop." His voice doesn't rise but it cuts through my panic anyway. "Listen to me carefully. Where exactly are you?"
"I don't know exactly. North of Pike Hollow. In the woods off the road by the church."
