The mountain shook, simply trembled beneath his feet.No!
He turned.
A cloud of snow billowed up, clogging the air as whatever shelf they’d aimed at unlatched.
Jericho couldn’t see the slide, still, the word ricocheted through him.“Run.”
Below, Orlando had stopped also, looking uphill. Barked.
Then the dog took off, running back to Jericho, startled out of his training mode.
Jericho turned, searching.
The wall of snow pummeled down the hill behind them, rolling through a flattened area then rushing on, right toward them.
A tsunami of death.
“Gunther!” He turned back, but the man still sat, buried, now just his red mitten poking out of the hole that Orlando had dug.No—
Orlando launched himself at Jericho, simply ran into him, nearly knocking him over, as if panicked and frankly, him too.
Jericho spotted the serac. Cover, maybe. He took off, running uphill, toward the lee of the rock, the deep hang of the icy protrusion. “Run, Orlando!”
He practically threw himself into the pocket under the overhang, pushing against the granite wall, arms out to catch his dog.
Orlando scrambled into his lap. Jericho clamped his legs around the animal, enfolded him in his arms, and bent over him.
He might have screamed as the world turned black. Might have shouted in panic as the snow crested over them. Might even have prayed as the noise blotted out his thoughts, burying him in a suffocating crush of ice and dark.
But all he remembered was holding onto his dog—Please let this not be howwe die.
Jericho had jolted awake, a cold sweat slicking his skin, his heart a fist slamming against his ribs. He sprawled on the bed in the guest room, the nightmare’s grip lingering, the wind rattling the windowpanes.It was just a dream. Just a—
Beside the bed, Orlando whined, a low, trembling sound, paws twitching against the pine floor.
Jericho reached down, stroked the Bernedoodle’s flank, the curly fur warm under his palm. “We’re okay, boy,” he rasped. “Just a dream.”
Orlando’s brown eyes cracked open, haunted, as if the dog shared the same nightmare.
Jericho sat up, the mattress creaking, his gaze darting to the clock on the nightstand. 4:50 a.m.Aw—
He threw off his comforter, the chill sweeping over him, and his bare feet hit the cold floor. Dawn still hadn’t touched the day, the night thick against the windows.
The closet door stood ajar, jammed with boxes—his belongings, packed away by Hudson after the family moved from the big house. He’d given the stacks a quick and dismissive purview last night.
Not ready yet.
Now, he yanked on his jeans, the denim stiff from the chill, and pulled a flannel shirt over his thermal. Then he grabbedOrlando’s harness, the bear bell on the collar clinking softly. “Let’s go, boy.”
The kitchen glowed, the lights on, the air sharp with the scent of burnt toast, but the smell of fresh coffee lured him in.
Hudson leaned against the black granite counter, pouring coffee into a Copper Mountain Lodge mug, his flannel shirt rumpled, his dark hair tousled, shadows under his eyes. The faint hum of the refrigerator filled the quiet, the window above the sink framing the river’s icy curve, the glass dusted with frost.
“You look pretty,” Jericho said, searching a drawer for a travel mug. He found one. “What are you doing up?”
Hudson grabbed a cast-iron skillet, turned the stove on. “The Eagle’s Nest’s heating system went down around midnight. We have issues with the boiler. An alarm went off and I need to get it running before pipes freeze.” He cracked eggs into the skillet, the sizzle sharp in the quiet.
“Need help?” Jericho asked, sipping the coffee he’d poured, the bitter taste grounding him, the steam curling under his nose.