“Fuck me,” I groan. I head towards the thickest line of trees, hoping it will lead me to the route we used to get up here in the first place.
The trees offer protection from the wind and provide a relatively easy path to follow. I can still see our footprints in the snow from when we arrived. I do my best to step in the tracks so as to hide my own.
The moment I step through the other side of the trees, however, the wind slaps me in the face with its frigid hand. My teeth start chattering. I wrap the coat a little tighter around me, but that does fuck all.
This might kill me. But I don’t give a shit. Better to die in the attempt than to wither in captivity.
I keep going. Away from the protection of the trees, fresh snow has fallen. My boots sink with each step, making the journey doubly hard. The jeep tracks from when we arrived are barely visible now, but I can make them out just enough to stick close.
I follow them down in the dark. I probably should have taken a flashlight or something, but that would have involved wasting more time in the cabin. Time I couldn’t afford to spare.
I walk so long that I start to lose feeling in my extremities. It’s too fucking late and too fucking cold to be out like this. I don’t stop or slow down, though. Doing either only makes the cold worse.
Then, off in the distance, I spy rooflines peeking out over the snow.
“The village,” I breathe.
It’s not the main village I’m familiar with. This is a much smaller one, probably miles away from the rest of civilization. But it’ll do. I just need to find a phone and make a call. My mother’s men will be here as fast as possible.
Then I can get back to my son.
Some women talk about childbirth weakening their bodies. In my experience, having my boy made me stronger. It made me realize what I was capable of. It’s how I know I’m capable of this.
It takes me another half an hour, at least, to get down to the edge of the village. But there’s a wall-marked path to follow and it’s downhill. I’m grateful.
It’s late, but there is a little convenience store with lights on. I walk up to it and knock.
There’s a clunking noise from within. A few seconds later, an older woman pokes her head up from behind the counter. She’s obviously doing some kind of inventory, and her expression is scrunched up with annoyance.
She squints at me through the clear glass doors, but she doesn’t step out from around the counter.
“We’re closed,” she calls out.
“I’m sorry, but all I need is a phone,” I yell through to her. “I just need to make a call.”
She gives me a suspicious once-over. “You shouldn’t be out in this cold. You’ll get frostbite.” I’m hoping that an invitation to enter is coming, but she remains stubbornly behind her counter.
“I just need to make a quick phone call, that’s all.”
“Try the motel down the road,” she says, unswayed. “They have a phone.”
Gritting my teeth, I stalk back down to the sidewalk and follow her directions down the road. The motel sign screams “VACANCY” in neon, bathing the snow beneath it in pink and blue.
The building itself is dark and quiet, but there’s a foyer entrance off to the side that’s lit up. I head inside the lobby and take a moment to appreciate the warmth that washes over me the moment the door closes. It feels like the best hug of my life.
The little lobby is set up with a front desk in front of a wall full of keys to each of the rooms. It’s old-school, almost charming. As is the man behind the desk. He’s in his fifties at least, with a thick woolen sweater and the mustache to match. His eyes go wide when he looks up and sees me standing there.
“Hi,” I say, offering a friendly smile. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I was hoping there was a phone nearby that I could use?”
He blinks and stumbles over his words. “Um, well, I suppose… yeah… hold on a second…”
He goes into the back room, and I turn towards the glass doors that I just walked through. I expect to see Leo standing on the other side of the glass, hot on my trail.
But there’s no one.
Instead, I see the building of motel rooms. The siding is a deep, saturated green and the doors are light wood with golden door knockers. As far as motels go, this one’s pretty nice. From the outside, at least.
I hear footsteps, and a moment later, the man re-emerges. He seems to have gained a little more composure. But I’m not above disarming him with my charm if it comes to that.
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” he says. My heart sinks. “Our phone lines are currently disconnected. The whole area is down from the last snow. It should be fixed first thing in the morning.”
It’s a struggle to keep the smile on my face. “Do you have a cell phone I can borrow, then?”
“No cell reception for the last few hours.” He notices the disappointment on my face. “It happens up here,” he says. “I can offer you a room, though. Even give you a discount.”
“Can I pay when I leave in the morning?” I ask, deciding not to tell him that I have zero cash on me.
“Of course, ma’am.”
I breathe a sigh of relief for old-school trust and accept the key to a room on the second floor. He offers to walk me up, but I decline politely and set off to my room.
I hate the idea of being stuck here so close to Leo and his men, but I don’t have a choice. I won’t make it much longer out there in the dark and the cold.
The room is spacious and cozy with two twin beds. I don’t have a change of clothes, so I stay in the ones I’m wearing and settle on the bed furthest from the door. The warmth is comforting. It’s almost enough to distract from the fact that my stomach is rumbling.
One more night, I tell myself. One more night and then I’ll be able to call Anya. She’ll send a team out to get me.
Morning will solve everything.
But for now, I’m so tired…
I don’t know how long I’ve been sleeping when I hear something from outside. At least, I think I hear it. My mind is groggy and my eyelids are heavy, though. I can barely muster the strength to open them.
“Hello?” I croak into the darkness of the room. “Is someone there?”
I frown and blink away the sleepiness. Is that…?
The next thing I know, I’m struggling for breath. I try to scream, but there’s a bag over my head, cutting off my oxygen. Hands grab me on either side, strong and rough.
“No! No!” I rasp.
Is this a dream? It has to be. It has to be.
But it’s too vivid, too real. Even through the bag on my head, I can smell the scent of perfume. It’s familiar. I’ll remember that smell until the day I die.
I’m torn from the bed and tossed into a chair. There are at least two sets of hands on me. As I breathe and my training begins to kick in, I can pick out scents, voices.
“Tie her up.”
That voice—so confident and clipped. Filled with the kind of control I’ve tried to embody the last several months.
Oh God.
The bag is pulled from my head, and I squint at her blurry silhouette. When my eyes finally adjust to the light, they confirm what I already know.
Brit.
“Hi, Willow. Long time, no see.”