Page 20

I t’s been a few days since I woke up in this godforsaken cave. I think. I’m not entirely sure. Time doesn’t feel real here.

All I pray for—when I still bother praying—is that if someone finds the car wreck, they’ll trace it to Chase, who rented it out under his name. Then to the cabin. Then to the bodies.

Except for mine.

My parents are pretty well-off—I’m sure they’ll demand a search party. Chase’s family will help. Vicky’s, too. Maybe, just maybe, there’s a chance someone will find me.

Oh, who am I fooling?

Yeti takes me outside only when I need to use the “bathroom,” but at least he doesn’t bind me anymore.

Small victories, I guess. I’m also out of the cage permanently, even when he leaves to hunt for food.

It’s mostly small prey he finds nearby, though each trip seems to take him longer than the last—which means my acting is working.

Fish has become my favorite. Not because it tastes good, but because it’s the least disgusting option.

He washes me regularly, and I know he enjoys it. A lot . I’m really more of a pet to him than anything else, but I’ve given up on trying to understand why I’m still alive. He seems dead set on keeping me around for… reasons? He’ll probably eat me anyway once he’s satisfied with other things.

He fucks me constantly, so much that I’m always sore, and at this point, I’m convinced my pussy is shaped like a monster cock. But it’s not the worst. I’m slowly getting used to it. His routine. His habits. The strange, quiet world inside this cave.

I also found some leftover human things—a couple of dental travel kits from the airline (expired, but who cares?), some travel-size body wash and shampoo, a mini hairbrush—stuff that makes me feel a tiny bit more normal.

I use them when I can, and he likes to watch me.

I believe he finds it fascinating. Even more so, he likes to brush my hair himself while I kneel by his chair and blow him.

But he prefers to use his claws for that.

On some level, I’ve even grown to like it, too.

His tasty cum keeps me warm from the inside out.

It’s a very pleasant experience, if I’m being honest.

Of course, I’m still actively working on my escape mission.

Every time he leaves, I go through his trophy stash. I found a rucksack from one of his previous victims and started stuffing it with anything useful—bits of survival gear, and whatever else I can find that might help me get down the mountain and back to civilization.

I’m waiting for the right moment.

He’s going to leave for a longer hunt eventually. And when he does? I run.

Finally, the day arrives when I sense my chance. Hurriedly, I put on the clothes and boots I selected that fit me the best, grab the large backpack with all the stuff I collected, and rush out.

I move toward the cave’s entrance, every muscle tense with anticipation, bracing for him to burst in at any moment. My hands tremble as I clutch an ice axe for protection, clinging to the jagged wall while following the path. My eyes strain to adjust to the pale light filtering in from outside.

The snow is blindingly white, a stark contrast to the oppressive darkness of the cave.

It crunches beneath my feet as I finally step out, the cold slicing through my skin like knives.

But I don’t care. The icy air burns in my lungs, sharper and more painful than the stale cave air, but it’s freedom.

It’s freedom.

I start to run.

My breath comes in ragged gasps, each step a fight against the deep, powdery snow that clings to my legs and threatens to pull me down.

The trees blur by as I push through, the wind howls, drowning out the sound of my frantic heartbeat.

I know I risk dying from hypothermia, becoming dinner for that pack of wolves we heard the other day, or falling to my death from the mountain. But none of it matters.

I don’t even know where I’m going. Just away. Away from him, from the cave, from the nightmare that’s consumed my life.

The forest is endless, a labyrinth of towering pines and twisted roots cascading downhill. My body screams for rest, my legs burning with every step, but I can’t stop. If I stop, he’ll find me. If I stop, it’s over.

I glance over my shoulder, half-expecting to see his massive form tearing through the trees after me. There’s nothing. Just the shadows of the forest and the endless expanse of white.

The cold is unbearable now, sinking into my bones. My breath fogs the air, curling like smoke in the wind, and I grip the ice axe tightly in one hand and press my other arm against my body, trying to hold onto what little warmth I have left.

A branch snaps somewhere behind me, and the sound hits me like a punch to my gut.

No. No .

I start running again, my feet slipping on the uneven ground as the noise follows—closer now. Heavy footsteps. The crunch of snow. The unmistakable weight of something massive moving through the woods .

He’s found me.

Tears blur my vision as I push myself harder, fighting not to slip. But each one sends a shudder through the ground. I don’t look back. I can’t.

He’s close. Too close.

Then, a low, guttural growl cuts through the wind, and I stop dead in my tracks, my heart seizing in my chest.

It’s not him.

This sound is different, raspier, heavier. I turn slowly, my eyes scanning the forest, the breath freezing in my lungs as I spot it.

An enormous Alaskan brown bear is charging at me. Its hulking form looms out of the trees, its fur matted and patchy, eyes gleaming with hunger and desperation. It’s too thin for this time of year, its ribs pressing against its hide—awoken too soon from torpor, and now it’s starving.

My body locks up, fear rooting me to the spot. This is it. Not the Yeti, not the pack of wolves, not even the snow itself, but this beast that’s going to maul me to death.

The bear growls again, closing the distance.

It rears up on its hind legs, towering over me with its extended claws ready to swing, and I scream.

My legs finally move as I scramble backward, tripping over a root and falling hard into the snow.

I clench the handle of the ice axe at the height of my face to cover myself, but I know it’s over.

I squeeze my eyes shut and wait for the lethal hit.

But it never comes.

Instead, I hear the familiar roar. A gravelly, bone-rattling sound that vibrates through the entire forest. The bear freezes, its head whipping around just as a blur of white tears through the trees.

Him .

Yeti crashes into the scene, his massive form dwarfing even the bear. His fur bristles, and his black eyes blaze with feral rage as he cuts between us, covering me with his body. He gives a final warning, but the bear is too high on the prey drive and lunges at him with a snarl.

The fight is brutal and quick. Yeti moves with terrifying speed and precision, his claws slashing through the animal’s side, ripping through flesh and fur. The bear roars in pain, swiping at him with its massive paws, but it’s no match.

I roll out of their way and jump back to my feet. But I don’t get a chance to look away before Yeti’s claws sink deep into the bear’s throat, tearing it open with a sickening, wet crunch.

Blood sprays across the snow, steaming in the frigid air, and the bear collapses in a twitching heap. Yeti stands over it, chest heaving, his fur stained red as he huffs heavily through his nose.

For a moment, he doesn’t move with his eyes fixed on the lifeless body. Then, slowly, his head turns toward me.

“Stay back!” I scream, my voice trembling with a mix of terror and defiance.

My breath fogs, and my fingers grip the axe’s shaft so tightly my knuckles turn white.

The cold bites at my skin, but I barely notice.

All I can feel is the weight of his eyes boring into mine, wild, vicious, and full of dark intent .

He pauses, just for a second, as if my words and the raised weapon have given him reason to reconsider. But then, he moves in a blur of fur and muscle against the stark whiteness of the snow.

My heart leaps into my throat, and I swing blindly, cutting through the air with a loud whistle.

Damn it, I miss.

Another swing—miss.

I’m not fast enough. I can’t even keep up with him.

But then, on the third swing, the axe connects. The impact jars my arms, and for a moment, time seems to stop.

My vision narrows, focusing on the sharp, pointed end embedded in his chest where bright crimson wells up. The wound isn’t nearly deep enough to truly harm him, but it’s something.

With a scream, I drag the pick downward, tearing through flesh and fur, leaving a ragged gash across his torso.

Blood spills freely, soaking his fur and staining the snow beneath us.

His snarl is deafening, a sound so full of rage and pain that it reverberates in my chest. His furious eyes—those burning, feral eyes—lock onto mine, and I see only betrayal.

I blindsided him. And he’s never going to forgive me. I now wish the bear got me because Yeti’s punishment will be severe.

Not if I kill him first, though.

I swing again, desperate to put distance between us, to do anything to slow him down.

But his gigantic hand catches the ice axe mid-air, the force of his grip halting my movement entirely.

His claws curl around the handle, and with a roar, he rips the only protection from my hands as if it were nothing more than a twig.

I stumble backward, my boots crunching in the snow, until my back hits the rough bark of a tree. I’m trapped.

He stalks toward me, his movements slow and deliberate, his eyes never leaving mine. Blood drips from his chest wound, leaving a trail of red in the snow, but he doesn’t falter. His predatory focus is unbroken, his gaze locked on me as though nothing else exists.