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I head for the dining room and use the service route to get to the kitchen. I don’t have time to waste using the carpeted stairs. The kitchen is a peaceful place when it’s just Paloma in there. It’s utter chaos right now with a whole crew there eating dinner at the long table to the side of the pantry,

“William.” The word is laced with desperation and angst. “I need your help.”

“Yeah. Of course.” He wipes his mouth. “I can get a third helping when I get back.” He chuckles, exchanging a look with Mary Jane.

“Bring a BB gun. We might need to go beyond the gate.” I check my watch. She’s been out there for a whole twenty minutes. Or at least, it’s been that long since I saw the flashlight in the distance. “We’re taking the golf cart.”

“Sure. I charged it this morning,” He tosses the napkin on the table and heads out through the back door.

I follow close behind him. With long strides, I reach the garden house, head straight for the golf cart closest to the garage door and hop in behind the wheel. William heads to the back and grabs an air rifle. When he joins me, he stops to look at me in confusion.

“Just get in.” I need to go fast, and I don’t have time to explain to him why.

He hops on the passenger side and holds on for dear life.

I punch it. “Look to the sides and tell me if you see a light.”

“Yes, sir.” He squints and leans forward.

I drive like an asshole who doesn’t give a shit if he lives or dies. It feels like hours, though my watch says we make it to the gate in five minutes flat. The door is wide open. Shit. Of course she went out there.

“Help.” The cry is so faint, I wonder if it’s just the wind playing tricks on me. I turn to William.

“I heard it too.” He jumps out.

I cross the threshold and head toward the clearing.

“Someone. Please help,” she says again.

“That way.” I point toward the tree line.

A million scenarios of Paloma in danger run through my head—wild animals, a man who thinks a woman alone in the woods is fair game, she breaks her ankle, she falls in an animal trap. The list goes on and on. But the one thing I don’t consider is the one I actually have to watch—Paloma in the middle of a frozen pond being swallowed whole like she’s nothing but a snack.

I glance behind me, but William is gone.

Fuck it. I can’t stand here and do nothing.

Scanning the surface, I look for a way to get to her. I trail a wide circle until I find solid ice. She wasn’t far from the edge, maybe ten feet. If she had been looking for it, she would’ve seen she was walking onto a frozen pond.

“Mr. Archer.” William shows up with picks. “Just in case.”

I nod, and he tosses the poles my way.

I drop to my belly. When I have a good grip on the ice, and William grabs my ankles, I sink half my body into the sink hole to look for her. Her floating hand is all I see through squinting eyes. I reach for it and hold on to it like my life depends on it because it does.

Once her head breaks the surface, I wrap my one arm around her waist and hoist her up. “Pull me back,” I call for William.

He does. I bring her with me, but she’s unconscious, either from the cold or because she swallowed too much water. I do the math in my head. She wasn’t under water that long. She’s fine. She has to be fine. I take off my parka and lay it on the ground before I perform CPR. I count the compressions and then breathe for her.

“Come on, wife. You can’t give up on me,” I say through gritted teeth.

“Try again,” William says a good fifty feet away from me with his rifle at the ready.

I count again and give her air. Her eyes fly open as she splatters water all over her. I turn her on her side and brush hair away from her face. “You’re okay. You’re going to be okay.”

“Mr. Archer,” William calls.

I turn around in time to see a fucking wolf. I know this is their land. But this isn’t the fucking time.