Page 92 of Crucible
“Thank you, Sunshine.” I lean down to kiss her but pause, just shy of touching her lips, to make sure it’s okay. When she givesa small nod, I smile through the kiss before pulling away. “You take such good care of us.”
She looks torn about the praise before settling on, “Thanks.”
“Goldilocks,” Khalil calls. She looks past me toward him, and I press a hand to her hip to let her know that I’m here. I won’t let them hurt her.
She doesn’t do more than flick her gaze toward me and back to Khalil. “Yes?”
“We’ll be back for dinner early, and we’ll be hungry. I prefer not to have a repeat of last night because you’re out of chances. Stay inside and make yourself useful. Understand?”
By some fucking miracle, I stay where I am instead of flying across the kitchen to rip out his entrails and lay them at my girlfriend’s feet.
Girlfriend.
Fuck, that feels good to say.
Aurelia George is mygirlfriend. My first…and my only.
“Yes,” Aurelia answers softly. She grabs the other two travel mugs and steps away from me to give them to Thorin and Khalil. “I understand.”
AURELIA
Istalk my mountain men—or rather their footprints—across the small clearing and into the woods. Grabbing Harrison’s coat, Cassie’s scarf, my boots, and the hat and goggles Seth gave me from under the den’s couch cushions where I’d stashed them cost me precious minutes, but the snow, for once, is my ally.
Following them out here is in direct opposition to my promise to behave and the more sensible plan of biding my time, shoring my strength, and gathering supplies.
But that was before Thorin had mentioned a camp.
Now that I know the men holding me captive are the very ones tasked with rescuing me, my gut tells me that I need to find that camp if I want to go home.
The guys have a head start on me and know where they’re going. The sky is clear, but the wind has a temper today, so it’s taking everything I have to keep up with them while staying hidden. After only a few minutes, I’m winded and chilled to the bones.
God, it’s colder than I remember. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it.
The wind blows the top layer of snow around, so their footprints become less and less visible the further from the cabin I get. For a moment, I worry about finding my way back. AndI scold myself for forgetting the reason I’m out here in the first place.
If I can find the camp, I won’t be going back.
I’ll be goinghome.
Back to my life and career if I still have one.
It’s the only thought that keeps me going for the few miles it takes until I finally catch up to Thorin, Seth, and Khalil. I slow my steps when I spot them through the gap in the trees. They’re standing near a set of snowmobiles at the edge of a valley.
The suits they’re wearing provide better protection from the cold than the pair of Seth’s sweats that I borrowed. He’s the slimmest of the three, and with my wide hips, the fit is snug but perfect.
The three of them are huddled around, discussing something—probably me—while I sneak closer. The crunch of the snow seems loud, and I clutch the ice pick that I’d found hidden and forgotten behind some meat in their freezer a little tighter. If they spot me, I’m toast. They had already warned me I was on my last strike. Seth promised to protect me from Thorin and Khalil, but how far could I really trust the word of a maniac?
Near the edge of the forest, I duck behind one of the trees with a thicker trunk while they break apart to climb onto the snowmobiles.
Of course, they’d lied when they said the only way through the Cold Peaks was on foot. The valley at the base of the mountain range was vast and stretched formilesin each direction. Those snowmobiles would cut down their travel time tremendously, and it would surely take me hours—if not the whole day—to cross on foot.
I’ll never catch up.
But maybe I can follow the tracks? It’s risky. If I stay exposed for too long, I’ll die. If I encounter any more of the predators inthis hellhole, I’ll die. If I get lost, I’ll die. Thorin, Khalil, and Seth already said they won’t come for me.
I’m still debating my next move when they lower their goggles, start the Ski-Doos, and take off. Rational thought flees the chat as I push away from the tree and start after them.
I run for less than a minute before I accept that I can’t keep up. Another five spent stumbling more than running in the thin mountain air, and I’m gasping for breath. The snow is too dense, too thickly packed. It nearly reaches my shins, and each step forward costs me too much energy. My underused muscles are already sore from the exertion of keeping me upright.
