Page 14

Adrian

T he cold seeped into my bones, stiffening my joints as Troy and I trudged through the snow, gathering whatever we could salvage from the wreckage. The sharp wind cut across my face, but I ignored it. There was no room for weakness out here.

Pain gnawed at my muscles with every movement. My entire body ached from the crash, from sleeping on the raft, from the strain of keeping myself together when everything was unraveling.

And then there was her.

Elena.

My chest tightened just thinking about her.

She had spent the remainder of the day asleep, curled up in that ragged excuse of a blanket, her breathing shallow, her face pale. Her ankle was a mess. It was hard to look at it without my stomach twisting.

She was supposed to be a ballerina.

I had never considered her dancing much, but I knew it was her dream. My father used to talk about how she had talent and could actually make it if she kept it.

And now?

If her ankle didn’t heal right—if we didn’t get out of here soon—her dream could die before it even had the chance to take flight fully .

I hated that thought.

Elena was… fragile in a way that had nothing to do with physicality. She was quiet and reserved, always keeping to herself. She would always me of a butterfly, delicate yet graceful, always just out of reach.

And now she was crumpled. Hurt.

And I fucking hated it.

“You’re quiet,” Troy muttered, breaking the silence as we worked.

I glanced at him. He looked just as wrecked as I felt—his face bruised, his hands scraped up from digging through the wreckage, his movements stiff with exhaustion. But he was working through it, the same as me.

I returned to the pile of broken seats we had pulled free. “Just thinking.”

Troy let out a short laugh. “That’s dangerous.”

I scowled at him, kicking at a loose chunk of debris. “I’m thinking about how we’ll get out of this mess and keep her from freezing to death. How we’re going to keep ourselves from freezing to death.”

Troy grunted, hauling a broken seat to the fire pit we had started. “No use in thinking too much about it. We do what we can and hope like hell someone sees the fire.”

I exhaled sharply, watching my breath mist in the frigid air. “Hope, huh?”

Troy smirked humorlessly. “Yeah. You should try it sometime.”

I rolled my eyes but didn’t argue. Hope had never been something I leaned on. It felt like a frail thing, easily crushed to bits under the weight of a harsh reality.

We worked silently, stripping whatever we could from the wreckage. The fire pit was built as best as we could manage, a mix of airplane debris, wood from broken seats and surrounding forest, and anything remotely flammable.

I wiped at my forehead, my breath heavy. “What if no one finds us?”

The question hung in the air between us.

Troy clenched his jaw and looked away. “They’ll find us.”

“But what if they don’t?”

He turned to face me, meeting my dark gaze. “Then we figure it out. ”

Troy studied me for a moment before letting out a rough chuckle. “You always have to have a plan, huh?”

“It’s better than just waiting to die,” I snapped.

Troy’s expression darkened, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he looked toward the plane. “And what about Elena?”

The tightness in my chest worsened. “What about her?”

Troy exhaled, glancing at the darkening sky. “She hasn’t eaten. She’s barely spoken. If she loses hope, we’re screwed.”

I swallowed hard, my stomach twisting. “She’s hurting. She’s scared. Anyone would be.”

Troy nodded, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Yeah.” A pause. “We don’t have much food left.”

“I know.”

We both stood there, silent, facing the reality neither of us wanted to admit.

If rescue didn’t come soon, we were fucked.

Troy shifted, glancing at me. “Fire’s lit.”

I followed his gaze to the small flame that flickered in the pit. It wasn’t much, but it was something. Hopefully, it would be visible from the sky once the night fully settled in and be seen in the morning.

Hope.

Goddamn hope.

“We’ll take turns keeping it going,” Troy said, glancing at the extra stuff we’d gathered so we could add it in as the night went on.

I nodded. “Yeah.”

Neither of us said anything else as we returned to the wreckage.

Inside, it was just as freezing as before, but at least it cut the wind.

Elena was still curled up in the same spot, bundled under what little fabric we had. She stirred slightly as we entered, her lashes fluttering, her breathing uneven. Her eyelids cracked open, showing the pretty blue of her eyes, but only just barely. Her face was badly swollen still.

I cracked open another heating pack and slipped it beneath the blankets near her. It wasn’t much, but it was all I could do.

Troy sank beside her, stretching out in the cramped space. “Come here,” he murmured.

Elena barely reacted .

Troy sighed and moved closer, wrapping an arm around her. She still didn’t react. If anything, she was more stiff than before. I knew our presence so close to her wasn’t enjoyable for her.

I hesitated. It felt different this time.

She was awake. She wasn’t unconscious or delirious from pain. She was fully aware of us being this close to her.

Tension knotted in my shoulders as I settled in on her other side.

Her body was warm from the heating pack and blanket but still trembling. I could feel it against my chest and could hear the way her breathing hitched slightly.

“This isn’t weird,” Troy murmured to her. “It’s survival.”

Elena exhaled shakily but didn’t argue.

She didn’t say anything at all. She closed her eyes, curled in slightly, and let the silence stretch between us.

And then, softly—so softly I almost didn’t hear it—she started to cry.

Her shoulders shook, her breath coming in uneven gasps, but she didn’t make a sound.

She was breaking, and there was nothing I could do about it. I swallowed past the lump in my throat, staring at the jagged metal ceiling.

I didn’t move. I didn’t speak.

Neither did Troy.

We just let her cry, let her feel the weight of everything, hoping—praying—that it would help her in some way.

And then, before I even realized it, my own eyes burned. I turned my face away, pressing it into the side of my arm as my chest ached.

For Elena.

For Troy.

For Dean, who had died in the crash.

For whatever the hell was going to happen to us if no one found us soon.

I let a few tears slip free, silent in the darkness, mourning everything we had lost and everything we might lose.