my escape, I actually felt a twinge of sadness, like I was losing something special. “Thank you…for everything.”
He pulled up his hood as he prepared to leave. He stared at the door, as if he had something else on his mind that he wanted to share, but then he came back toward me, his boots echoing against the floorboards. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a long blade, at least five inches. It was sheathed in a covering so it wouldn’t slice him in the thigh. He gripped it by the handle with the blade pointed to the floor. “Don’t hold it like this.” He turned the knife and pointed it upward. “Hold it like this. We’re trained to push down on the arm to force it into the thigh. If you keep the blade up, you have a better chance.” He dropped it on the bed. “Good luck.” He didn’t look at me again before he walked out.
He didn’t bother to lock the door…not this time.
I used the knife to access everything beneath the cabin. Then I returned the floorboard and hoped they wouldn’t notice it. Not for my sake, because I’d either be dead or free, but because of Magnus.
I didn’t want him to lose his head because of me.
With the bow slung over my back, along with the quiver of arrows, which I had no idea how to use, and all the supplies I’d stolen, I left my cabin and became absorbed into the night. But the camp wasn’t abandoned like it used to be.
There were guards on post.
Shit.
They obviously expected whoever stole the supplies to sneak out of the camp. That was how they intended to capture the perpetrator—red-handed. Now I had to be even more careful than before.
I crept through the snow and headed in the direction of my sister’s cabin. I noticed the speed of the wind through the branches overhead, the sounds of the forest as everything swayed with the coming storm. An owl screeched and made me jump a foot off the ground. The forest knew something was coming.
I stuck to the edge of the camp, using the different cabins for cover, always peeking around the corner to check if the coast was clear before I made my way to the next structure. Again and again, I moved, holding my breath, slowing my frantic heart.
When I spotted the cabin Melanie had described, I noticed the light through the crack beneath the door. It was the only light on in the camp, at least in this quadrant. That meant she was awake. Maybe she knew a storm was coming and that was her way of telling me where she was.
I peeked down the row of cabins and saw no one around, so I moved toward the cabin.
Then the front door opened.
“Fuck…” I quickly backed up, hoping the guy wouldn’t see me.
Fortunately, his gaze was on the doorknob where he inserted the key to lock it.
That gave me enough time to duck back for cover.
When he turned around and walked off, I recognized him.
He wore the black bomber jacket on top of a pair of jeans, his face fully exposed to the elements. His boots crunched against the snow from his weight. He moved down the row of cabins until he turned the corner.
I was sick.
Now I knew, without a doubt, that was Melanie’s cabin.
This was bad timing…but also great timing.
I had to put the revelation from my mind because now wasn’t the time to dwell. I didn’t have the luxury of becoming emotional, of having any kind of reaction not based on survival. This was our last night here—it was almost over.
I moved across the snow, and the instant I was exposed, I could feel the wind pick up.
It was going to be a harsh storm.
We had to get moving now.
I got to the door and stuck my tools inside, twisting and turning the locks to get it free.
Melanie’s voice came from the other side. “Raven?”
“Shh.” I looked down the row of cabins to make sure I was still alone. The coast was clear, so I kept messing with the lock, the shaft slipping from time to time. “Come on, don’t be a bastard right now…”
Click.
“Oh, thank god.” I opened the door and pushed inside.
Melanie stepped back, like she couldn’t believe I was in her cabin.
The bed was rumpled like two people had been rolling around in it. There was a lone candle burning, a vase of flowers on the nightstand,