Page 87 of Mountain Void

As much as he hated it, she was right. It was the right call.

“Fine,” Lorenz said, the word clipped.

Ry hesitated, then nodded once. “I’ll be back as fast as I can.” He turned and took off, already moving fast down the slope, disappearing in the semi-darkness within seconds.

Lorenz exhaled, eyes fixed on the hut below them. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

Charlie’s eyes grew round. “You’re going down there?” she whispered.

“If Pelletier is there, we need to know if the boy’s with him.”

Charlie nodded. “Please don’t leave me alone.”

Lorenz hesitated. Staying here was safer for her—probably. But the thought of leaving her alone, exposed, out here—

No, he couldn’t risk it.

“We move together,” he said, his voice low.

They moved carefully, keeping low, using the terrain for cover.

Smoke continued to curl from the chimney. It looked as if someone had just added another log.

They were two-thirds of the way down when Charlie’s boot caught on something and she pitched forward. Lorenz reached out an arm to steady her, caught her just in time, but the damage was already done. One small stone kicked it off, rolling down the slope, gathering others as it went, a dry cascade that resonated through the valley.

Too loud.

Lorenz’s grip tightened on her arm, pulling her down to a crouched position.

They both listened. Beside him, Charlie’s breaths came in tight, little gasps.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured.

“It’s—“

The door to the hut opened. A man stepped out onto the porch.

Pelletier.

He scanned the slope, eyes narrowing.

Lorenz tightened his hold on Charlie. It was dark enough that he might not be able to see them. If they just stayed still—

“Je sais que vous êtes là !” Pelletier shouted.

I know you’re here.

Charlie’s breath caught. Lorenz felt the sudden tension in her body, recognizing it for what it was: her body locked between fight and flight.

Neither was the correct answer.

We stay still.

He squeezed Charlie’s arm briefly—trying to telegraph calm, control.

Charlie’s boots scraped on the ground. A small sound, but Pelletier locked in on it, his large, barrel-shaped body tilting towards the noise.

In his hand, a revolver glinted in the semi-darkness. Charlie’s hand gripped his arm.