Page 11

T he bright light blinds me as I open my eyes. My ears are ringing, but I hear Chase's deep, familiar voice, “There you are. I’ve been looking for you.”

Chuckling, he kneels in front of me and digs me out of the snowbank, scooping away the icy weight pinning me.

Next, he props me up into a sitting position, and I quickly look around.

My snowboard sticks up awkwardly nearby, cold air sears my lungs, and I realize we're deep in the woods on the mountain, where I veered off the slope.

“You banged your head pretty hard on the ice,” he says, noticing my confusion. “Let me check.” He leans in to unclip my helmet.

But before he can, I surge forward and wrap my arms around him, hugging him tightly, clinging to him like he’s the only thing keeping me tethered to the world. He stiffens in surprise for half a second before relaxing, his arms circling me in return.

“Hey, babe, you’re okay,” he murmurs against the top of my helmet, his voice low and soothing. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

The words are warm and comforting, but they feel so fragile, so fleeting.

Desperate, I pull away to look at him—his goggles are pushed up over his helmet, his ski mask pulled down around his neck, and those striking blue eyes of his lock onto mine.

That infuriating, cocky smirk is there, too, tugging at his lips.

I want to say something. To tell him how scared I was.

How I thought I’d never see him again. How much I regret waiting so long to go out with him in the first place.

To having silly doubts, not letting him in, and being so grumpy most of the time.

But the words catch in my throat, sticking like shards of ice.

Then, his face starts to change.

It happens so fast I barely register it. The smirk disappears as his lips part—but no words come out, only gurgles. Thick, dark blood pours from his mouth in a silent scream, streaming down his chin, and dripping onto the pristine snow beneath him.

I watch, paralyzed, as his head lolls to the side, unsupported by the limp neck, and those eyes go dull—once so vibrant, so alive—now hollow, staring at me like empty voids.

His body collapses with a sickening crunch, his torso ripped open, crimson spreading out around him in a vivid, violent bloom across the white powder.

And then, there’s only darkness.

It was just a fever dream, and I wouldn’t be surprised if I had a concussion. I should have known better when he hit me with Rhysand’s line. A cruel joke—my mind’s last attempt to cling to him. To pretend for just a moment that everything’s okay. But it isn’t. And it never will be.

We didn’t have enough time. He didn’t even get a chance to really live yet…

Pain comes next.

My head feels like it’s been split open, and I groan, trying to move, but my body protests. Everything hurts. My arms, my legs, my ribs—they all scream at me the moment I shift. I pry my eyes open, but even the dim light stings.

Slowly, my vision adjusts, and the immediate terror settles in.

Where am I?

The rest of the memories slam into me like a truck, crushing me.

The cabin. The blizzard. The blood. My friends— God, my friends.

And Chase. My Chase… Yeti’s claws ripping through all of them like paper.

So much screaming. The crunch of snow under my bare feet.

The freezing air slicing into my lungs. My hysterical, clumsy sprint through the forest, and one thought keeping me moving—if I just kept running, maybe I’d survive.

But the beast caught me.

Abducted me .

The nightmare was real.

And now, I live in it.

I try to sit up, but my arms jerk against something cold and unforgiving. My wrists are bound. Shackled. Panic swells in my chest, and I tug at them, the metal biting into my skin. The clinking sound echoes in the space around me, sharp and eerie.

“Help,” I whisper, though I already know no one’s coming.

Maneuvering my arms, I push myself upright, chains dragging across the ground, the pain in my body flaring with every movement.

A fire burns in the center of the cave, and its warmth brushes against my naked skin, but it feels sinister, not comforting.

Thick, jagged bars stand in front of me, forming a crude cage.

They aren’t evenly spaced—some are wider apart than others—but it’s functional, made of rusted iron and scrap metal, forged with no care for precision, like Yeti learned how to work with whatever he could find.

And it’s clear that his mind is as sharp as his claws.

I’m trapped.

The chains that hold me are another monstrosity entirely.

Each link is the size of my fist, connecting to thick, heavy shackles that are fastened tightly around my wrists.

The shackles are coarse with rust, the iron biting into my skin, but the chains have been left loose enough for me to walk freely around the cage.

They snake up toward the ceiling of the cave, secured to a huge, rough wooden beam above me.

I can’t see the exact mechanism, though it’s obvious that this was all purposefully constructed to keep his prey suspended in the air.

Then I look down, and my stomach drops.

Bones.

They’re scattered across the ground, their pale shapes glistening in the firelight. Some are small—animal, maybe—but others… others are human. I know they are. A skull lies just a few inches from me, its empty sockets staring back, mocking my horror.

I’m not the first one in here.

I scream. It tears out of me, raw and instinctive. I scramble backward, my chains rattling, until my back hits the cold stone.

Me. I’m prey. And there’s no escape.

I yank at the chains again, harder this time. “Help!” My voice cracks, desperate and shrill. “Please! Somebody help me!”

Silence.

My breathing is wild, my heart racing as I take in the rest of my surroundings.

The tunnel stretches on both sides, with no outside in sight.

The fire pit in the center is the only source of light and warmth.

A patch of furs lies spread out nearby, piled on top of one another to form makeshift bedding. That must’ve been where I was before.

Close to the bedding, what looks like the remains of a plane wreck are scattered—rusted and jagged metal parts. Several seats have been salvaged and twisted into a functional chair, big enough to fit Yeti’s frame. Pieces of aluminum have been used as part of the cage’s structure itself.

In the den’s corner, there’s a giant pile of clothes, but not his own—bits of various human clothing, torn and ragged.

These were taken from his victims, likely ripped from their bodies after the hunt.

He’s collected them like a disturbing trophy pile meant to claim them as part of his lair… How serial killer of him.

This is just fucking perfect. Not only is he a wild beast but also a psychopath.

Beside the clothes, there’s something more useful—tools.

A collection of things he must’ve stolen from cabins, hikers, and cars.

Rusted knives, a crowbar, a hammer, an axe, even a flashlight.

It’s hard to believe that something so human could find its way into the hands of a creature like him. But Yeti is intelligent, isn’t he?

Farther into the cave, I hear a quiet yet distinct sound of dripping water. The light barely reaches there, but I can see a tiny stream running beneath the rocks, where the river flows in from somewhere deep within the mountain. A large, hand-carved, stone basin is placed underneath, collecting it.

My mouth instantly feels dry, and my throat scratches.

How long has it been since I drank something?

One thing stands out: the careful way in which everything is arranged. Yeti’s lair isn’t just some random hideout—there’s thought behind it, though barbaric in execution. It’s his domain. His territory. And now, I’m part of it.

Suddenly, somewhere behind the noise, I hear breathing. Slow and steady. My skin prickles, and I force myself to look up .

Yeti emerges from the outer tunnel of the cave, dragging the body of a deer behind him.

He drops the fresh kill and sits just beyond the fire, crouched low, his massive form blending into the shadows.

His white fur is matted and streaked with blood.

His face is monstrous—a grotesque blend of beast and something almost human.

His eyes lock onto mine. Black, glossy pits that seem to drink in the light as he watches me.

I freeze. My chest tightens, and my mind screams at me to do something, anything. But I can’t. All I can do is stare, trembling under his gaze.

“What… what do you want?” I finally whisper, my voice barely audible.

The creature doesn’t answer. Of course, he doesn’t. He just tilts his head, as if it’s studying me, curious.

The chains around my wrists rattle as I try to pull back further, but there’s nowhere to go. My back is already against the wall.

His breathing grows louder, deeper. The sound fills the space, each exhale making my pulse pound harder.

I squeeze my eyes shut, wishing, praying, hoping this is all some sick, twisted dream. But when I open them, he’s still there.

Thankfully, though, he focuses on the carcass. Breaking the bones and skinning it with his extended claws, he carves out a huge chunk of meat and chews obscenely, as if demanding my attention.

Bile rises in my throat, but it isn’t nausea this time. My stomach grumbles. I’m… hungry.

Yeti’s mouth twists into a sinister smile. He cuts out a smaller piece of meat and places it on a plate-sized scrap of metal, serving it raw in front of the cage, just out of my reach.

Oh, he’s even more cunning than I gave him the credit for.

I ignore it—or I try to at least—but then he moves and fills a shallow stone vase with water. He places it next to the bloody steak on the ground like a trap, waiting for me to break.