Standingguard at the door, he blocks the howling wind.Thegiant watches me pack my backpack without rushing the process.
Shovingmy laptop into the bag,Izip the canvas shut.Thevast emptiness of the destroyed room closes in.
"Ready?" he asks.
"No."
"Good."Grabbingthe strap of my bag, he slings it over his massive shoulder.Aheavy arm wraps around my waist, pulling me flush against his side.
Wefit.
I’mtucked firmly against his side, my hip bumping his powerful thigh with every step.Thetop of my head rests at the hollow of his shoulder.Radiatingbody heat, he acts as a furnace against the biting drafts.
"Holdon to me," he orders as he kicks the remains of the door open wider.
Westep out into the blizzard.Thewind howls, biting at my exposed face, butDanielshields me from the worst of it.Hemarches us toward a matte-black truck parked at the edge of the clearing, hidden in the trees.
Ilook back at the ruined cabin.
"Don'tlook back,"Danielgrowls near my ear.Openingthe passenger door, he lifts me onto the seat.Thegrip on my waist lingers. "You'rewith theHalosnow, little ghost.Wedon't lose what's ours."
Heslams the door, shutting out the cold.
Watchinghim walk around the front of the truck, his predatory grace dominates the clearing.Themassive enforcer scans the trees for threats.
Andfor the first time in eight months,Idon't feel alone.
Adeep tremble runs through my limbs, brought on by the burning look he gave me right before he closed the door.
Hisdark eyes promised he was already planning on devouring me.
2
DANIEL
Theheater in the truck rattles against thePineValleyblizzard outside, but the heat coming off the woman in the passenger seat is enough to fog the windows.KailaReyes.
Myhands tighten on the steering wheel until the leather groans.IfIlook at her,I'lldrive us into a ditch.Ikeep my eyes on the whiteout conditions of the mountain road, navigating by memory and instinct.Theroad to theBrokenHalosclubhouse proves treacherous even inJuly.Ina storm like this, the gravel track becomes a death trap for anyone unfamiliar with the hidden cliff edges and deep potholes.
"Youmissed the turn," she rasps.Herthroat has taken a beating from screaming at me back in the cabin beforeItossed her over my shoulder.
"No,Ihaven't."
"TheGPSsays?—"
"GPSdoesn't work out here.Satellitescan't see through the iron deposits in the ridge."Ishift gears, the engine growls as weclimb steeper. "Trustinga screen over the ground under your tires gets you killed."
Shehuffs, folding her arms over her chest.Themotion draws my gaze.Shewears layers of tactical gear that swallows her small frame, but underneath the bulk hides soft skin and a pulse thrumming too fast.
Shedoesn't tremble.Hergaze remains steady, calculating.Thatmesses with my head.
Mostpeople cry and beg whenDanielGunnarkicks down their door to drag them into a storm.Kailajust calculates.Ican practically hear the processors whirring in her brain, assessing threat levels and analyzing escape routes.
"Whereare you taking me?Theslaughterhouse?"
"Clubhouse,"Icorrect. "You’rean asset."
"Anasset."Shetastes the word, practically spitting the syllables. "Isthat what you call people you kidnap?"