Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 24910 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 125(@200wpm)___ 100(@250wpm)___ 83(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24910 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 125(@200wpm)___ 100(@250wpm)___ 83(@300wpm)
She might think she’s doing this alone. But I’m not letting her out of my sight—not again.
Because this time, no matter what she thinks, she’s not getting away that easy.
Chapter Three
Emma
Snowflakes whip against my cheeks, sharp and cold, and every breath I take stings my lungs. But I keep pushing forward, adjusting the straps of my camera bag, focusing on the crunch of my boots in the snow, the steady rhythm that drowns out the doubts swirling in my head.
“You’ve got this, Emma. Just a little further,” I mutter to myself, the words snatched away by the wind. But the snow’s coming down faster than I expected, thick sheets swirling through the trees, blurring the trail ahead. The cold bites through my jacket, chilling me down to the bone. Still, I grit my teeth and keep moving. There’s no way I’m turning back now. I won’t let Slate win this one.
Each step feels heavier, my legs burning from the effort of trudging through the snowdrifts that keep getting deeper. I pause for a moment, wiping the snow from my lashes, my breath coming out in harsh puffs that hang in the air. The trees creak under the weight of the snow, shadows growing long as the clouds thicken above. A shiver runs through me, but I tighten my grip on the camera bag, squaring my shoulders. I can do this. I know if I can get a shot of the northern lights over Devil’s Peak, the magazine will pay top dollar for it.
But there’s a prickling at the back of my neck, a sense of being watched that I can’t shake. I glance over my shoulder, scanning the shadows between the trees, but there’s nothing. Just the snow falling in dizzying swirls, the forest a maze of white and gray. “You’re fine, Emma,” I whisper to myself, though my voice wavers. “Just keep moving.”
I push forward again, but the wind shifts, sending a gust straight into my face. I stumble, my foot catching on something buried under the snow, and curse under my breath as I struggle to regain my balance. My legs tremble, exhaustion seeping into my bones, but I force myself upright, leaning heavily against a tree.
A part of me whispers that maybe I should have listened to Slate, that maybe I’m in over my head. But I shove that thought away, pushing off the tree and stumbling forward. I won’t let him be right about this—about me. I can take care of myself, damn it. I grew up in these mountains just like he did–I’ve camped off-grid a hundred times in service of getting the perfect shot. This isn’t my first snowstorm and it won’t be my last, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little unnerved by it.
The snow thickens, turning the forest into a white labyrinth, every direction looking the same. Panic claws at the edges of my mind, and I take a deep breath, forcing myself to focus. I’m not lost. Not yet. I just need to find my bearings, get my head on straight.
I don’t hear him until he’s right behind me.
A hand clamps down on my arm, strong and unyielding, and I gasp, whirling around, nearly slipping on the ice beneath my feet. Slate’s face is shadowed under the hood of his coat, his jaw tight, his eyes burning with frustration.
“What the hell are you doing?” I snap, yanking my arm free, my pulse pounding in my ears. Anger surges through me, mixing with the cold and the fear I won’t admit to feeling. “Why are you following me?”
He doesn’t back off, doesn’t even flinch. If anything, he steps closer, his breath fogging the air between us, rough with exasperation. “Saving your ass, apparently. You really thought I was going to let you do this alone? In this storm?”
I can feel the heat of his body, so close it’s almost burning against the chill of the wind. My cheeks flush, but I refuse to back down, squaring up to him. “I didn’t ask for your help, Slate. I don’t need you.”
His lips twist into a humorless smile, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that sends a shiver down my spine. “Yeah, well, too bad. Because I’m not letting you freeze out here just to prove a point.”
I take a step closer, matching his defiance with my own, until we’re so close that I can see the flecks of snow caught in his lashes, the hard set of his jaw. “I can take care of myself. I don’t need you to play hero.”
He leans in, his grip on my arm tightening, his breath warm against my chilled skin. “I’m sure you think you can, Emma. But you’re not doing it alone. Not this time.”
The words hang between us, heavy, charged, cutting through the cold air. My chest heaves, my breath mingling with his, and for a moment, I can’t look away, trapped by the intensity in his gaze. It’s infuriating, the way he looks at me like he still knows me, like he still cares—like he never stopped.