Page 73 of Easy, Tiger

The wind swallows the rest of whatever Owen says. I don't need to hear it. Every stride closes the distance between me and that half-collapsed tent, snow stinging my eyes, lungs burning with cold air and a desperate, fragile spark of hope that burns clear for the first time all night. She might be sitting in there right now, cold and furious and finding ways to fight, waiting for exactly this.

Charging ahead, the tent's outline finally solidifies through the storm ahead of me, close enough now that nothing on this mountain is going to slow me down.

27

HALSEY

The tent flap snaps shut behind Nico, and the engine of the snowmobile roars to life outside a moment later, fading fast as he heads off to scout Devil’s Gap ahead of schedule. And finally, for what feels like hours, I'm alone. My wrists burn where the zip ties have been cutting into them, made worse by the bitter cold that threatens to steal the feeling from my fingertips. Twisting my hands again to force blood back into my stiff joints, I feel the plastic bite deeper. The angle's all wrong, and my shoulders are screaming from trying to shimmy out of them for so long.

"Come on," I mutter through chattering teeth, working my wrists against each other. "There has to be something."

The tent's interior offers nothing helpful—sleeping bag, backpack, rifle case—all of it is stationed far enough away that I can't reach anything useful. Pushing myself up, I shuffle closer to the tent's support pole on my feet, legs unbound and functioning even if my balance isn't, searching for a sharp edge or anything I can work the ties against.

The cold gnaws at my stiff fingers, sending warning tingles of approaching numbness through my hands. I can barely feel the plastic biting into my skin, but I force my hands to keep moving, desperate to preserve my circulation and whatever dexterity I have left. Blood trickles down my palm, warm against the chill, as I keep twisting, keep tugging, because sitting here waiting for Nico to come back isn't an option.

The wind picks up outside, rattling the tent walls, and I use the noise to cover the sound of my boots against the tent floor as I move toward his pack. Maybe there's a knife in there, maybe⁠—

Footsteps crunch through the snow outside, not the engine I'd expect if he were really back already. Even with a machine cutting the distance, this is way too soon for him to have reached Devil’s Gap and returned. Which means either he figured out I lied to him, or⁠—

The tent flap tears open with enough force to snap one of the tie-downs, executed with raw, rapid power. Someone bigger, moving faster, and when the fire of his eyes cuts through the storm-blown opening, my chest floods with relief so sharp it's almost painful.

"Nolan."

"I'm right here." He's inside the tent before I can blink, hands already working at the zip ties around my wrists. "Hold still; these are cutting you."

"I know. Couldn't get them loose. Nico went to scout Devil's Gap. I told him the vanguard would be securing the pass ahead of the main group."

"Smart." The zip ties snap under his strength, and suddenly my arms are free, circulation flooding back in painful waves. "Can you walk?"

"Yes." Flexing my fingers, I wince as feeling returns. "How long do we have?"

"Long enough if we move now." Nolan helps me to my feet, balancing me when my legs wobble from sitting cramped for so long. "Owen's team is tracking him. The storm's covering our exit."

He wraps his jacket around my shoulders, and I realize he's been moving through this blizzard in only a flannel shirt. "You'll freeze."

"I run warmer than you do." His hands frame my face, checking for injuries with a thoroughness that tells me exactly how worried he's been. "Anything else hurt?"

"Only my wrists. And my pride." I catch his hands with mine, squeezing once. "I'm okay, Nolan. Let's get out of here."

"Tell me what happened. All of it, once we're somewhere warm."

We slip out of the tent together, Nolan leading me through snow that's already knee-deep and getting worse by the minute. He moves with absolute assurance despite the whiteout conditions and the pitch-black night, his shifter vision guiding us flawlessly where my human eyes only see swirling darkness. One hand keeps me balanced, the other clearing branches before I can stumble into them. The cold bites deep, but his jacket blocks most of it off, and after sitting stationary in that cold for so long, moving at all feels like freedom.

"There." Nolan indicates a path through the storm toward a dark shape barely visible through the trees. "A ranger cabin where we can warm up and wait for the all-clear."

The cabin materializes out of the snow as we get closer, small and solid and blessedly real. Nolan digs through the snow beside the porch step until his fingers close around a small lockbox bolted to the foundation, working the combination from memory before he fishes out the key and gets us inside, shutting the door against the wind.

"Owen radioed about it before I breached the tent. He wanted me to get you somewhere safe and warm immediately to check for shock and injuries before we even think about trekking back down," Nolan says, kicking the door shut against the howling wind. "He said they're holding the fort out there. Nico's military trained; he has the gear for extreme survival. But our people are tigers. We're built for the cold, and they can track him without me getting in the way while distracted."

He's already moving toward a wood-burning stove in the corner. "Figured it'd be worth remembering if things went sideways. We stay put until Owen gives the all-clear."

Sinking into a chair beside a small table, I finally allow myself to believe we made it out. "How did you find me so fast?"

"I'd always find you." Nolan checks in on me while coaxing kindling into flame. "This mountain's been mine since before I could walk it on two legs. A storm and a lousy pop-up tent were never going to be enough to keep you from me. We caught the glow off his lantern through the snow before we ever got close, and the rest was simply knowing this terrain better than he ever could."

The fire catches, throwing warm light across the cabin's simple interior, wood-paneled walls lined with a pair of old snowshoes, a narrow bunk bed frame against the far wall, and a battered dresser doing double duty as storage for the emergency supplies. A wooden trunk sits at the foot of the bunk, and stacked firewood fills the corner nearest the stove. Nolan turns toward me, and with the heavy armor of his vigilance finally slipping, his shoulders slump half an inch.

"Let me see your wrists."