Page 38

Troy

I had been walking for three days. Three days of relentless cold. Three days of gagging down food I didn't want but needed. Three days of pushing through exhaustion, pain, and the unbearable weight of knowing if I failed, Adrian and Elena would die.

I couldn't fail. I wouldn't. But God, I was so tired.

My body ached, my feet were frozen, and my legs barely carried me forward. Every step felt like walking through quicksand, the snow dragging me down and draining what little I had left.

I should have slept. I should have stopped. But I couldn't.

Because every time I thought about resting, every time I thought about stopping, I saw Adrian's haunted face.

I saw Elena's pretty eyes, fragile body, and how she had looked at us after the truth came out.

I heard her voice, torn, wrecked, trembling with devastation.

I swallowed thickly, my breath shaking, my hands clenching into fists inside my gloves.

I wouldn't let it come to that. I couldn't. Making things right is what mattered now. Saving us was the goal.

I forced myself forward.

The sun had disappeared again, and the world around me merged into nothing but endless white. The trees loomed like silent, judging shadows.

My body felt like it wasn't mine anymore; I was just some shell moving through the ice, some machine that kept going even when everything inside was screaming to stop.

I slipped and then stumbled.

The second my foot hit a hidden patch of ice, my body jerked violently. My balance was gone, and the world tilted.

Then came the fall. Next came the pain.

The second my leg twisted beneath me, a sharp, excruciating bolt of fire shot through my knee, and I barely had time to suck in a breath before I hit the snow hard.

"FUCK!" The scream tore from my throat before I could stop it, my vision blurring with tears, my hands grasping at my leg as white-hot agony burned through it.

Not now. Not fucking now.

I clenched my teeth, trying to force myself to breathe and not lose it completely.

I pressed my fingers to the injured knee, testing it—another bolt of pain shot up my thigh, and I nearly blacked out.

But I didn't. I couldn't. I had to keep going. I had to.

Gritting my teeth, I forced my body upward, biting back another choked cry as my knee screamed in protest.

I swayed, my head spinning, nausea curling in my stomach. But I moved.

One step.

Then another.

Pain was just another thing to ignore, just like the cold, the hunger, the exhaustion.

I couldn't stop.

I didn't know how much time had passed since then. It could have been hours, minutes, or days.

I kept going, my mind in a fog, my body on autopilot, my thoughts looping, circling, dragging me deeper into the abyss.

Elena's voice.

Adrian's face.

The fire back at the wreckage, flickering in the dark, their bodies curled together, waiting for something that might never come.

A sound—a deep, throbbing pulse in the sky—made me pause. I froze completely, my heart lurching, my breath catching.

I knew that sound. I knew it deep in my bones.

A helicopter.

I whipped my head up, eyes darting wildly toward the sky, my breath coming in sharp, frantic bursts. I prayed I wasn't hallucinating.

Please let it be real. Fuck. PLEASE.

I could hear it. I could feel it vibrating in my chest.

But when I looked up?—

There was nothing—nothing but a gray, endless sky, snow falling in soft, cruel flakes, and trees silent and unmoving.

I blinked, my pulse hammering in my ears. I could still hear it. I swore I could still hear it.

Tha-da. Tha-da. Tha-da.

"HEY!" My voice cracked, raw, desperate. "I'M HERE! Please! I'M FUCKING RIGHT HERE! HELP! HELP ME!"

I stumbled forward, my injured leg screaming in pain, but I didn't care. I kept moving, reaching, shouting, praying.

"PLEASE!"

The sound faded.

My heart plummeted.

No.

No .

I whirled in circles, searching the sky, my breath heaving, my vision swimming, my body barely holding itself together.

But there was nothing.

No helicopter. No sound. No rescue. Nothing.

I let out a sharp, ragged sob, my chest caving in on itself.

My legs buckled.

I hit the snow hard, my knees sinking into the white fluff, my entire body shaking violently.

This was it.

This was the end.

I sucked in a breath, my head tilting toward the sky, my vision blurring with exhaustion and cold and tears.

And then, barely more than a whisper?—

"Adrian…"

My voice was a breath, a ghost, a prayer that fell on the brutal wilderness.

If a man screams into the wild and no one is there to hear, does he make a sound?

"Elena…"

Their names felt like a lifeline, the last thing anchoring me to this world.

I had failed them. I had failed.

Tears slipped down my frozen cheeks, my breath heaving, rattling. I couldn't go on. This was the end of the road.

I took off my gloves, giving in.

I pressed my hands together, my fingers cracked and shaking, and whispered,

"God, forgive me. You fucking win."

I closed my eyes, and the darkness swallowed me whole.