Page 44 of Cold and Bitter Snow

You have enough problems without making up more.

Siena looked up at the sky. It was snowing again. Beside her, Conor groaned. His large hand pressed against the wound. Siena’s eyes filled with tears as bright, red blood oozed past his fingertips onto the snow where it congealed almost instantaneously.

Siena took off her jacket. She wanted to place it underneath his body to protect him from the cold ground but didn’t want to move him in case she made him bleed more. She folded her jacket and placed it under his head.

Then she grabbed the scarf and pressed it hard against the wound. A muscle ticked behind Conor’s jaw but he didn’t make a sound.

Maybe I should go find the snowmobile. Bring it closer and—and what? I can’t lift him. And there’s no way I’m leaving him up here alone.

Conor raised his head to look at the unconscious kidnapper.

“Remember, keep … keep an eye on him. No matter what.”

“Yes. Yes.” Tears rolled down her cheeks. “Please, Conor …” she cried out.

“It’s going to be okay …” he said. His face was ashen.

His eyes closed. She felt a moment of panic then realized he was still shivering.

That’s a good sign, right?

She draped herself over him in an attempt to protect him from the wind, at the same time keeping an eye on the unconscious kidnapper, who hadn’t moved a muscle.

“Please don’t die, Conor. There’s so much we haven’t done yet. I want to go skiing together again. But I want to go to the beach with you as well. Surfing, maybe. We should find something neither of us has ever done before.”

She was babbling but couldn’t seem to get herself to stop. She didn’t think he could hear her. As she put pressure on the wound he stirred but didn’t open his eyes.

Siena kept whispering softly in his ear, even after Alma came back and knelt next to them. Siena hadn’t even heard the moment the alarm started blasting but now it filled the air.

And then she heard something else. At first it was so faint she thought she might be making it up but she looked up at Alma and the young woman nodded excitedly. She could hear it too.

A snowmobile!

She recognized the man driving the machine. It was Luc—Conor’s friend. Her heart thumped in her chest when she saw the wheelchair bits strapped to the back and remembered he was paralyzed.

How’s he going to—

An instant later Luc was beside them. Alma’s expression turned fearful.

“It’s okay,” Siena said. “He’s a friend.”

Luc cut off the ignition. His expression was grim.

“Please help him,” Siena begged.

Luc didn’t hesitate. He was on the ground beside them in an instant, dragging himself towards them on his elbows, his legs hanging uselessly behind him. He held himself up with one arm while he removed her bloody hand. His expression as he saw the blood was grim.

When he spoke it wasn’t to her, but to a small radio in his hand. “I found them. Head to the La Rochelle access point. We’re near the top of the chairlift.”

“Who are you speaking to? Our phones are down,” Siena gasped.

“It’s a mountain rescue radio. Relax, Siena.”

“You remember my name,” she said, surprised.

“Siena-from-the-avalanche. You’re the only thing Conor’s been speaking about,” Luc said. A small smile crossed his features then his blue eyes were serious again.

“Please don’t let him die,” Siena begged.