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The evil she feared wasn’t a demon, a ghost, or the imaginary monsters of books and movie screens and childhood closets. Her monster was very real and very dangerous.
That was another life. Another world. She’d been another person then. A person she barely even remembered.
The thrill of hunting was in the kill. The thrill of killing was in the hunt.
The world was divided into predator and prey. The rules society erected for itself were shams, civilization only a mask meant to hide the violent, brutal truth—men were made to kill.
Then he felt many things—triumph, pride, delight. Power. The only emotions that mattered.
COLD. The four basic principles to keeping warm. C—Keep clothing clean. O—Avoid overheating. L—Wear clothes loose and in layers. D—Keep clothing dry.
She leaned her remaining ski pole against her chest and raised three fingers above the horizon line: a trick her father had taught her. Each three-finger segment represented approximately an hour. Still three hours until sundown.
The evil she feared wasn’t a demon, a ghost, or the imaginary monsters of books and movie screens and childhood closets. Her monster was very real, very alive.
Relief didn’t flood her veins. Other than her captor, he was the first human being that she’d laid eyes on in five years. He was still a man. And men were dangerous. Especially strangers. Especially strangers on a lonely back road in the middle of nowhere, with no one else around to hear your screams for help.
He’d read once that the nation was only nine meals from anarchy. In a bitter winter like this, with temperatures well below zero and the threat of freezing to death in your own home a real possibility, it was happening even faster.
Nature was what it was. It wasn’t cruel. It wasn’t filled with malice, not like humanity. It was beautiful in its hardness.
Human beings were the unknown element. You never knew what they would do, what they were capable of.
Responsibility, connection, love—it only brought more heartbreak. And his heart was already broken.
The cold was a living thing, a savage and merciless predator. She’d loved the forest and winter as a child, but now it was hostile, actively aggressive. Hunting her.
Liam didn’t dislike dogs. He just wasn’t a huge fan of dogs that wanted to murder him.
he never saw another person for the rest of his life, it would be too soon.
Animals were predictable. Humans could be surprising.
He believed in being ready for anything. Nothing would take him by surprise. Nothing would ever leave him feeling helpless or defenseless again.
“Alone is a state of mind, nothin’ else. You remember that. So is fear.”
“There’s two kinds of fear. Healthy fear keeps you alive. It’s that gut instinct we women tend to ignore. You listen to that, you keep breathin’. Fear warns you to pay attention. To get out. To stand your ground and fight. Fear’s the body’s warnin’ system. Without it, we’re the deer trapped in the middle of the road stunned by oncomin’ headlights. Roadkill every time.”
“That second kinda fear takes hold of you and don’t let go. It sinks its claws in and turns you into somethin’ you’re not. That fear destroys you from the inside out.”
To know that he was the one with absolute power, absolute control, absolute authority. He ruled death itself.
She hadn’t thought her fear could intensify, could worsen. But it could. Things could always get worse.
He was weary and battle-broken. He’d lost everything he cared about. And yet. He was still here. Still fighting. He wasn’t even sure why.
“She was a good person.” Fresh tears strangled the back of her throat. “She didn’t deserve what happened to her.” “The good ones never do.”
