Page 15

D on’t look back. Just run.

My legs burn as I push harder, desperately throwing myself forward, but I already know how this ends.

He’s toying with me. And he enjoys it.

I can feel it in the way his heavy footfalls close the distance between us at an unnerving pace.

Each thud vibrates through the frozen ground, a harbinger of the inevitable.

He’s probably been expecting it, waiting for this.

He can catch me at any moment. But he’s letting me run, letting me struggle, savoring every second of it, knowing there’s nowhere for me to go.

“Fuck you!” I scream, glancing over my shoulder.

He’s right there, so close I can almost feel his hot breath on my back. His massive frame moves effortlessly through the snow, muscles rippling under his fur as he closes in. His eyes burn like coals with an almost playful glint, as if this is some sick game to him.

Panic surges through me, and my movements grow frantic. My breath comes in ragged gasps, stabbing at my chest like knives, and my vision blurs—tears, exhaustion, or sheer terror, I can’t even tell anymore. My foot hits a patch of ice, and suddenly, the ground vanishes.

I realize too late that we must be high up on the mountain. And things go from tragic to catastrophic in a split second.

I’m sliding, careening uncontrollably down the steep, rocky slope.

Snow sprays up around me as I twist and tumble, my arms flailing in a desperate attempt to slow myself down, my boots flying off my feet.

Sharp rocks bite into my skin as the jagged edges tear through the fabric of my jacket and leave streaks of crimson on the pristine snow.

Above me, his roar echoes through the trees again, and I glance back to see him leap after me. The sight is terrifying—this hulking beast, as white as snow, moves on all fours with the grace of a predator on the hunt.

I try to claw at the icy ground, digging my fingers into the snow to stop my deadly slide, but it’s useless. My momentum carries me faster and faster toward a huge drop… until his claws wrap around my ankle, yanking me backward with brutal force .

For the tiniest millisecond, I feel relief, recognizing just how badly I don’t want to die.

The thought hits me like a hammer to the chest. Would I really rather face him than let the mountain swallow me whole?

Then I remember his cage and all the nasty, unspeakable things he wants me for, and dying doesn’t seem so bad anymore.

I barely have time to scream before his massive hand clamps around my waist, pulling me up.

The world tilts as he flips me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, my stomach slamming against the hard ridge of his collarbone.

His grip is tight, claws digging into the backs of my thighs as he steadies me.

I feel warm streaks of blood running down my naked legs, then his tongue lapping it all up with grunts of delight.

“Let me go, you fucking brute!” I scream, pounding my fists against his furry back.

He doesn’t even flinch.

Instead, he lets out a guttural growl that shakes through his chest. The sound vibrates against my body, leaving an electric trail of dread behind, and I freeze, realizing just how helpless I am.

It’s possessiveness as though he were screaming, Mine! A primal declaration that I belong to him, whether I like it or not.

He climbs back up the mountain, carrying me like a prize he’s claimed, all proud and shit. Each step is deliberate, his balance remains perfect despite the uneven ground. The world is nothing to him but a playground .

All I can see is the endless white behind us. Somewhere out there, freedom is waiting. But here I am, slung over the shoulder of a literal monster, being dragged back to his lair. Tears blur my vision as the stark realization sets in—I was never meant to escape.

And now he’s angry.

Ohhh, he’s furious .

As soon as we’re back in the cave, his growls echo off the icy walls like thunder, rattling deep in my chest. It’s not just fury, but also frustration, even disappointment, almost like he’s trying to say, What the hell were you thinking?

Or maybe it’s me, scrambling to add a speck of humanity to his behavior.

But he did save my life. Twice now—first, when that moose on the road could have caused a major and potentially deadly accident. Three times, if I count him warming me up after I almost froze to death in the snow… though, he was the one who caused that situation by killing my friends .

Reminding myself of that fact—which I’m clearly trying to erase from my memory—I reach up, grasping for one of the icicles hanging from the ceiling.

It’s just within my fingertips, brittle-looking and sharp.

If I can snap it off, maybe I can drive it into his back.

But the ice is thick, solid, refusing to break under my weak grip.

My fingers slip uselessly over the frozen surface, my arms burning with effort.

He doesn’t even notice. He just keeps moving, carrying me deeper into his lair without pause or hesitation—like my resistance isn’t even worth acknowledging .

His movements are sharp and purposeful, each step radiating with barely contained rage.

He doesn’t bother with any gentleness—but has ever?

His massive hands tear the ruined jacket from my body, the fabric deteriorating under his claws, before he tosses me back into the cage like a disobedient animal.

“You’re a goddamn psycho!” I scream, scurrying to sit up, my heart hammering in my chest.

He’s on me in an instant, pinning me to the cold ground, trying to mount me in a savage domination showoff. My body fights instinctively, writhing beneath him, but it’s like wrestling with a boulder. His weight presses me down, unyielding and suffocating.

I was supposed to have a romantic getaway and lose my virginity to my perfect, sexy boyfriend. He took that away from me. I won’t let him take anything more.

I react before I think.

My hand reaches for the bones scattered next to us, and I blindly pick the longest, thickest one—a thigh, perhaps? I swing at him unexpectedly, and I can’t tell who is more surprised—him or me.

The crack against his skull is sickening, reverberating up my arm as if I’ve struck pure steel.

I must knock him pretty hard since he stumbles back, and the bone breaks in half on impact.

Not wasting even a second, I leap forward to stab him with the sharp edge of the part still in my hand.

I aim for his throat, but he blocks me, and it sinks into his raised arm.

He snaps his teeth as dark blood pools from the spot, though it’s more irritation than pain because he pulls it out smoothly and flings it away like it’s a toothpick.

This isn’t nearly enough to stop him. It never was.

But he bleeds. And that means, there’s a way to kill him.

The force of his roar is deafening, and it hits me like a physical blow.

Now he’s really angry. The walls of the cave seem to shudder with the sheer magnitude of his fury, loose bits of frost raining down from above.

His face is so close to mine, and his eyes burn like lava.

I haven’t seen him this riled before, not when he was after me, not when he was ripping Chase to shreds.

I don’t even have the courage to flinch. I’m rooted to the spot, terrified.

His breathing comes in harsh bursts, and the rise and fall of his massive chest is like bellows stoking a fire.

One clawed hand flexes at his side, twitching as if he’s restraining himself from tearing me apart.

The other brushes over the wound I gave him, and he looks down at the smear of blood on his palm with a slow, simmering rage.

Then he rises to his full height, towering over me, and his hand wraps around my hair.

His claws scrape against my scalp, sending a fresh jolt of pain down my neck.

He yanks me upward with such force that I yelp, clawing at his wrist. His breath hisses through his teeth like steam escaping a pressure valve, low and dangerous.

Dragging me after himself, he moves to grab the shackles from the corner of the cage, and my stomach drops at the mere clinking sound.

I try to get away, pressing my back against the icy bars, but it’s no use.

His grip tightens like iron, unyielding and merciless, as if he’s determined to remind me just how fragile I am next to him.

“Wait! Stop! Don’t—”

He doesn’t listen. He never does.

The cold, heavy iron bites into my chafed wrists again as he shackles me with ease, his strength making it pointless to resist. Then, with a sinister gleam in his eyes, he reaches up for a thicker chain, suspended from the beam above.

“No! No, please! Please!” I scream, my voice cracking with desperation, but it only seems to amuse him.

His lips curl back in something between a snarl and a grin, revealing sharp fangs glinting in the dim light.

In a single motion, his claws thread one chain through the other with practiced ease.

The links rattle ominously as he yanks the loose end of the hanging chain, pulling it taut.

My feet leave the ground as I’m lifted into the air, my body stretched and helpless, the sharp edges of the shackles digging into my wrists.

But he doesn’t care. His eyes bore into me, wild and furious, and the muscles in his arms flex as he gives the chain another sharp tug so that my body is perfectly level with his face.

Then he steps back, tilting his head as he admires his handiwork.

He scans me from head to toe, and a low rumble of satisfaction escapes his throat.

“Fucking hell! Let me down, you sick monster!” I shout, thrashing against the restraints. I only dangle like a sack of meat, swaying slightly, useless and pathetic.

I don’t know if he’s going to kill me or… something worse .

As adrenaline surges through my veins, terror transforms into defiance.

My legs shoot out, one desperate kick after another, trying to connect with anything.

My foot slams against his chest—solid, immovable muscle—but I don’t stop.

Another kick catches his shoulder near the wound, and he growls, the sound low and menacing like a thunderstorm rolling in.

“Release me!” I scream, my voice hoarse from crying. But I don’t stop. I kick again and again, twisting and flailing with renewed desperation as the chain groan above me.

Yeti doesn’t react. He stands there, watching me struggle with unnerving patience. His breathing is slow and controlled, a stark contrast to my panicked gasps as he simply waits until my strength ebbs away.

“You can’t do this to me! Please!”

Despite all the will, my thrashing grows weaker, the fire in my muscles extinguished by exhaustion.

Every movement sends sharp jolts of pain through my arms and shoulders.

Eventually, my body gives in. My legs fall limp, my head hanging low, tears streaking down my face.

I can barely lift my gaze to meet his, but when I do, the sight is more terrifying than before.

The intensity of his gaze pins me in place, making it hard to breathe. I swallow hard, my mind racing for anything that might calm him down. But nothing comes. How do you fight something that can’t be reasoned with, something that’s just pure instinct? He’s a beast, untamed and unpredictable.

His hand moves suddenly, brushing against my cheek, and I flinch. But it’s not as violent as it’s possessive, almost tender in a raw, wild way.

I twist my head, trying to pull away from his probing touch, but his claws scrape lightly down the side of my neck, the sharp points sending jolts of sensation through me.

He leans in, and the next thing I feel is his jagged teeth sinking in my throat. The pain shoots through me like an electric shock, and all I can do is scream.

There’s no escaping him.

I’m his offering now.

And he’ll make damn sure I never forget it.