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Van and Peterson both stepped into the icy water and caught the bow.

With a quick flick of his wrist, Beau shifted the gearshift into neutral, signaling to him and Van to join him.

Seconds later, they were aboard. With an affable grin, Beau put the engine into reverse.

The low rumble of the boat reverberated under their feet as he propelled them back into deeper water.

“Grayson is keeping an eye on the complex with Tracy and a few others. We decided that it would be smart to have a way to bring your lady-friend home once we found her,” Beau said, turning the steering wheel and aiming them out toward the wide expanse of the lake.

“Thanks,” he said.

He stood next to Beau at the console while Van sat on the bench in front of it.

Clouds were rolling in from the west and a brisk wind created whitecaps on the lake. He could smell rain in the air. He looked back toward the shore. If Grayson and Beau hadn’t realized Jayden was missing for a few more hours, any evidence of her escape would have been erased.

He focused on the darkening skies, a sense of foreboding creeping over him. If Rigo didn’t spot her, they still might not find her before the storm hit. Van must have sensed the same thing because he abruptly looked up from his cell phone, his expression filled with foreboding.

“Weather service just posted a flash flood warning for the area west of us,” he said.

“I hope you two don’t mind getting a little wet,” Beau said as the boat hit a wave and water sprayed over the bow.

Torrents of rain fell, creating miniature rivers along the animal trail Jayden was following. She shivered and cringed when lightning created a spiderweb effect across the sky. She counted, waiting for the crack of thunder.

Three seconds.

Desperate for shelter, she scanned her surroundings. The last bolt of lightning was less than a mile away, and the storm seemed to intensify. Her heart sank as she felt the pelts of hail assaulting her, confirming her fears.

Another flash of lightning illuminated a fallen tree, prompting her to abandon the narrow trail and ascend the rocky outcrop. The tree, a massive spruce, had toppled onto a steep incline of jagged rocks. The natural lean-to offered her protection from the rain, hail, and lightning.

Carefully navigating through the dense foliage, she finally discovered a narrow opening beneath the protective bark.

Sinking down to her knees, she crawled under the trunk of the tree, feeling the rough rock mixed with dried needles and soil under her hands.

As she pressed back against the rock, a wave of uncontrollable shivers ran through her body.

She struggled to control her shaking limbs, her breath visible in the chilly air.

Shrugging the backpack off, she cradled it against her chest and drew her knees up as far as she could.

She needed to gather her strength. The first thing she needed to do was build a fire.

Once she had one, she would change into dry clothes, eat, and try to get some rest. Exhaustion plagued her.

It had been almost forty-eight hours since she had last slept.

Two days before, she had paddled until dawn.

Once she reached a section of the lake where a tributary ran into it, she had scuttled the canoe, piercing the bottom with her knife to create a series of holes before pushing it back into the lake.

She had wasted precious time making sure it sank before she began her trek along the river.

She had made good progress until the storm hit yesterday afternoon, filling the air with the sound of thunder and rain.

Once the sky opened up, the rain fell in torrents, giving the impression that it would never end.

The sky was illuminated once again by a sudden flash of lightning, prompting her to bury her face against her bag, seeking refuge from the blinding light and the relentless, uncontrollable shivers that shook her body.

Her fatigue was overwhelming, but she pushed through, determined not to succumb to sleep.

She understood that changing out of her soaked garments was crucial for her chances of surviving the night.

With a sigh of exhaustion, she pushed her backpack off her lap and began the arduous task of shedding her wet attire.

As a cold draft of wind cut through her meager shelter, goosebumps formed over her skin.

She reached into the dry bag she had taken from the supply tent and retrieved a fresh set of clothes.

Relief swept through her almost immediately at donning the dry clothing.

She pulled the tie from her wet hair and combed it out before braiding it again.

More refreshed, she studied her shelter.

There was enough dry wood underneath from the bark that had fallen off for her build a small fire.

If she pulled the surrounding branches across the opening.

They would help block the wind and rain that was beginning to dampen her dry clothes.

Thirty minutes later, she had a fire going.

Holding her frozen fingers out, she closed her eyes, savoring the heat beginning to defrost the bone-numbing chill.

Once her hands were warm, she collected rainwater in a metal cup and placed it as close as she could to the flames to heat it.

She felt in a second dry pouch for the bag containing a variety of herbal teas.

Eating a packet of crackers. She leaned back and peered through the branches she had piled in front of the opening. The crackers helped to calm the ache in her stomach, but she feared nothing would help the pain in her heart.

“Why do I miss them?”

What was it about Van and Peterson that drew her to them?

Yes, she missed her people already, especially her parents and grandparents.

Despite her resistance, she was beginning to understand why Mitchell had made the decision that he had.

Life as they had been living it was harsh.

It had only grown more so since the shifters knew about their existence.

A single tear escaped down her cheek as she reflected on those who hadn’t made it through the winter, a poignant symbol of her sorrow.

Memories of her little brother, gone for what felt like an eternity, flickered through her mind as she stared out at the rain.

Born early and always sickly, he never had a fighting chance.

The past year had brought unique hardships for everyone. The frequent need to move had taken its toll on their entire clan, leaving them feeling stressed and drained. Hunger had been a constant companion, as there was never enough food.

“Why couldn’t they have left us alone?” she murmured, lifting a hand to wipe away her tear.

She lifted another cracker into her mouth and slowly chewed it.

Mourning the past wouldn’t change the present.

She leaned forward and picked up her damp shirt off the rock beside her and used it to lift the hot metal cup.

She placed the tea bag into the cup and tossed the wrapper and several more pieces of bark and some sticks into the fire.

The hot tea created a soothing path down to her stomach when she sipped it. She held the cup to her to her lips, breathing in the steam. The aroma of the herbal tea teased her senses and calmed her.

Once again, she leaned back against the rock, feeling its rough surface against her back.

Her mind couldn’t help but wander to Van and Peterson, wondering what they were doing at that moment.

What was it about the two shifters that intrigued her, drawing her closer with every passing moment?

Her mind was flooded with memories of the first time she laid eyes on them in the forest. Even then, she had sensed a mysterious connection between them, something inexplicable.

The undeniable strength of the connection made it impossible to brush it aside or overlook.

They were not only good-looking, but they also had an undeniable charm. She would be lying if she said they weren’t. There was a sense of danger that surrounded them, but… she wasn’t afraid.

“Think, Jayden. What is it about them? Did they say or do anything unusual that would make me feel this way?”

The answer she kept coming back to was… no.

Visions of the amusement and longing in Van’s eyes, the hunger in Peterson’s, the warmth of their touch against her body, the smile on their lips, their gentle manner when dealing with other members of her clan—the visions popped into her head, one after another, like the flashes of lightning streaking across the sky.

She had noticed every move they made from the first time she saw them in the woods to the complex.

They had never acted with malice. When the children followed the two around at the complex, they had stopped to play games and chat with them.

When Macon had fallen and scraped his knee, Peterson had scooped the three-year-old boy into his arms and taken him to the medical tent.

She sipped more of the tea and looked out at the forest. Her mind wasn’t on the falling rain or the slight fog rising from the ground, but on what it had been like to see them shift from one form to the other. She thought it would have been repulsive, but it hadn’t been.

The change happened in a blink of the eye.

She had been expecting their bodies to twist and snap as the bones reformed.

The drawings on the walls of the caves where they camped when she was little had shown images of grotesque creatures with their human-like skin pealing back to reveal muscle and bones.

Their faces contorted into masks of rage.