Page 35

Slowly, my tumble toward who-knows-where comes to a stop.

I lie motionless at the bottom, looking up at the stars.

That’s when it hits me, the storm has stopped.

There is no wind, no blowing snow. I move my right leg and then the left.

They still work, but the wind has been knocked out of me.

I struggle to inhale. My lungs feel flat, cold.

I gasp with a sudden intake of oxygen. My vision momentarily blurs and then tunnels, but then returns to normal.

Sitting up, I take stock of my situation.

What do I do? How do I find Finn?

I push myself up from the snow, wincing as pain radiates through my ankle.

The embankment was steeper than I thought, and the fall has left me bruised and battered.

I glance around, hoping to catch sight of Finn.

The snowstorm has finally ceased, leaving the world silent and still under a blanket of fresh powder.

The sky is clear, the stars twinkling coldly above, but the beauty of the night is lost on me.

My only focus is finding Finn, praying to any god that’ll listen that I can find him before the fucking bear does.

“Finn!” I shout, my voice echoing through the empty wilderness. I wait, straining to hear any response, but there is only silence. The cold bites at my cheeks and hands, the wetness from the snow seeping through my clothes, chilling me to the bone. I have to find him. I have to know he’s safe.

I stagger through the snow, each step a battle against the frigid terrain.

The trees loom like dark sentinels, their branches heavy with snow.

Every now and then, a clump of snow falls with a muffled thud, startling me.

I call out again, “Finn!” but there’s no reply.

Desperation claws at me, and I fight the urge to panic.

I have to keep moving, have to keep searching.

Hours seem to pass in a blur. My voice grows hoarse from shouting, and my limbs feel like lead.

The temperature continues to drop, and I know I can’t stay out here much longer.

My mind races, torn between the need to find Finn and the reality that I need to get to shelter before I become another victim of the Alaskan wilderness.

I clamber over fallen logs and push through thick underbrush, the rough branches scratching at my face and hands.

The snow is deep in many places, and my progress is slow and painful.

I keep my eyes peeled for any sign of Finn—a piece of clothing, footprints in the snow, anything.

But there's nothing. The forest is an endless expanse of white and black, indifferent to my struggle.

“Finn!” I scream again, my voice cracking.

The silence that follows is deafening, a stark reminder of my isolation.

Tears sting my eyes, freezing on my lashes.

I can’t bear the thought of losing him, not to the harsh elements and certainly not to the bear.

Finn, with his infectious laugh and bright eyes.

Finn, who means more to me than anything in this godforsaken wilderness. The new love of my life.

A sudden movement catches my eye, and my heart leaps.

I scramble toward it, nearly tripping in my haste.

But it’s only a deer, its large eyes watching me warily before it bounds away, disappearing into the forest. I collapse to my knees, sobs wracking my body.

I don’t want to give up, but my strength is fading.

The cold is relentless, and I know I won’t survive much longer without shelter.

I clutch at the snow, my fingers numb and clumsy. “Finn,” I whisper, my breath misting in the air. “Please stay safe. I will come for you… I will come for you.”

With a heavy heart, I turn back toward The Wildwood B&B.

The journey is arduous, each step a testament to my dwindling strength.

Every part of me aches, and my vision blurs with exhaustion.

After what seems like an eternity, the warm lights of the B&B come into view, and relief washes over me.

Despite feeling sick with concern for the man I left behind, I force myself to keep going, the promise of a warm meal and safety pulling me forward.

I stumble through the door, the warmth of the interior hitting me like a physical blow. I collapse onto the floor, gasping for breath. Doris rushes over, her plump face creased with worry.

“Good Lord, you’re frozen solid!” she exclaims, helping me to my feet. “Miranda, bring some blankets!”

Miranda appears with an armful of blankets. Her face is pale, and her hands tremble as she drapes them over my shoulders. “Where is Finn?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

I shake my head, my throat too tight to speak. Doris and Miranda exchange a worried glance, their anxiety palpable. They move to the kitchen, whispering to each other and wringing their hands. Something is wrong. Something beyond Finn being lost.

I stagger to the fireplace, the delicious heat seeping into my frozen limbs. My mind races, trying to make sense of everything. Doris and Miranda’s nervous behavior, their hushed voices—they’re upset about something. Something they’re not telling me.

The door swings open, and I turn to see a man standing there.

He’s tall and fat, older, his face partially obscured by the shadows.

He steps into the light, and I feel a chill run down my spine.

What the hell is the Angel Falls banker doing here?

In his hand, he holds a piece of paper—no, not just any paper.

I squint to read the top line of the document.

The deed to The Wildwood.

My stomach lurches and I nearly vomit the bile that is surging toward my throat. What the fuck is going on here? Finn said we had some time left to save the lodge. I don’t understand what’s happening now.

“Good evening,” he says, a sinister smile spreading across his face. “I believe we have some business to discuss.”