“So, this is how I die,” Cora said in a deadpan voice.

“Been through worse,” Finn said.

He glanced at her but his eyes swept immediately back to the road. The Jeep rattled alarmingly as he slowly accelerated up an incline. Snowflakes pattered against the windshield, gray and dirty against the purple backdrop of a premature twilight. The wind howled as it threw snow against the Jeep, as if trying to push them back down the mountain.

Before her comment, Cora had been deathly silent beside him the entire way up the mountain. She gripped the seat beneath her in white-knuckled hands, jaw tight and eyes wide.

Ahead, the pine trees thickened as if huddling for heat. The passage they created tunneled the storm, directing its fury straight into the Jeep’s grille.

Finn gave more gas, but the Jeep was struggling. It was an older model—it was near impossible to hot wire new cars these days without the right tools—and it hadn’t been kept in the best state of repair. He’d checked the tires though. The last thing he wanted was a blow out on the side of Black Peak mountain.

In this weather, they’d die of hypothermia.

Another thick volley of snow blocked his line of sight. Finn slowed reluctantly, but not enough so he would lose momentum. They were a few minutes from the cabin, but if they got stuck now…

“I thought this was supposed to be a safe house.”

“It is.” He gave a conceding shrug. “Once we get there, we’ll be pretty fucking safe.”

“’Cos no one will ever be able to track us through this,” Cora added, voice still devoid of emotion.

“Exactly.”

“So how will they find our bodies?”

He snorted. “You’d have preferred to stay out there where a rival cartel could find you?”

“At least I’d be warm.” She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering theatrically. Then again, the temperature inside the Jeep had dropped several degrees as they’d wound their way up the mountain, so maybe she wasn’t really putting on airs.

Finn’s lips wanted to quirk in a smile, but he smothered them into a thin line. This wasn’t the time for frivolity. Cora’s life—and his too—were at stake. They’d be safe at the cabin. Off grid. No eyes and ears—

Where no one can hear her yell when you fuck her again.

The voice came out of nowhere, billowing into substance like someone had whispered inside his head. Finn pushed away its insinuation. His mind had been a silent place since the farmhouse. Eerily silent, as if his psyche was holding its breath for something. The snow and the constant scent of Cora—that citrusy note he couldn’t identify— in the confined space of the Jeep seemed to have set it off.

“Can’t we put on the heat?” Cora asked.

“I need as much power as—”

The steering wheel ripped from his hands. A crash filled the cab like a living thing.

Cora screamed; it was a tight, breathless sound.

The Jeep twisted, sliding a few feet in the snow before the tires lodged. The engine ticked in the sudden quiet that surrounded them—not even the wind blustered in that moment.

“What—?” Cora cut off with a choke, and fumbled with the door handle.

“Stay inside!” Finn got out of the Jeep, the air squeezing him like a frozen fist as he squinted to see through the storm. The wind drove stinging snow into his face. He tugged off a glove and drew his Five-seveN from the small of his back, letting it dangle at his side as he sidled toward the front of the Jeep.

A dark shape lay a few feet from the Jeep’s hood.

Before he reached it, something heavy struck the side of the Jeep, right by Cora’s door.

Finn swung around, Five-seveN raised. A deer leaped over the hood of Jeep, almost clipping Finn’s shoulder with its hooves as it streamed effortlessly over the vehicle.

He fell against the car, jaw clenching over a shout of surprise. The deer’s tail flashed white before it disappeared like a phantom in a swirl of angry snow.

More came then. Twice, deer crashed into the Jeep before veering around and disappearing into the trees. Finn crowded against the Jeep’s wheel arch, making himself as small as possible and praying Cora would stay inside. Seconds later, the herd was gone as if they’d never been.

Finn counted a few thundering heart beats before he risked a glance over the hood. Snow billowed around them, but no more deer seemed intent on crossing the narrow road.

He grappled with the Jeep’s door handle, struggling to find a grip with his sole glove, and ripped the door open.

“You okay?”

Cora sat huddled on the seat, hugging her legs to her chest, her head burrowed in her knees. She peeked out at him, face pale.

“They gone?” she whispered.

“Think so. Just stay put.” He closed his door and went around the front of Jeep, already knowing what he’d find.

The deer they’d collided with had already been dusted with snow. Finn bent down, scraping snow from its flank. Its hind leg jerked, catching his shin. He shot up with a quiet curse.

Still alive, but badly injured judging from the amount of steaming blood eating through the snow beneath it. “Shit.”

“It’s dead?”

He spun, glaring at Cora as she scrambled from the driver’s side of the Jeep. “I said stay inside.”

She ignored him and crouched beside the deer, wiping snow from its snout. It snorted air through its nostrils in a loud hiss. “Shh,” she whispered, stroking it when it tried to move its head out of her reach. “Finn…it’s dying.”

“I know.” He raised his Five-seveN, and then hesitated. “Move.”

She looked up, eyes going wide. Her mouth opened, and he almost thought she was going to protest. But she wasn’t an idiot—at least, not all the time. She had to realize the animal was in pain. She gave it a last stroke down its nose and then stood, hugging herself hard.

She turned her head when he shot the deer through its skull. The shot reverberated around them, strangely muffled by the falling snow.

“Get inside,” Finn said, crouching beside the animal as he tucked his gun into the small of his back and yanked his gloves back onto his hands.

The road was so narrow, it would be impossible to get the Jeep past the animal unless he dragged it aside.

“Let me help,” Cora said in a thick voice.

When he looked up at her, she avoided his gaze. Snow-dusted hanks of black hair stuck out from under her woolen cap. They seemed to make her thick, dark eyebrows and lashes that much darker. Moisture trapped in those lashes made her golden eyes glitter. She sniffed hard and grabbed the deer’s two front legs. Finn grabbed its hind legs and together they dragged it out of the way.

It left a swathe of too-bright blood in the snow.

Cora avoided the streak, but Finn trod through it as he headed back for the Jeep.

He held the door open for her as she clambered back inside, and then did a quick scan before climbing in behind her.

The Jeep rocked when he slammed the door closed. He touched the ignition wires together. The engine turned, but didn’t catch. Clenching his jaw, he tried again, willing his hands to stop shaking. It was near arctic outside, and they’d been on this road for almost an hour in the unrelenting snow.

The Jeep refused to start.

“Fuck.” Finn sat back, and ran his gloves down his face. “We’ll have to walk.”

“Is it far?”

“Fifteen, twenty minutes.” He glanced outside at the snow. “Make that thirty.”

Cora nodded, took a deep breath, and then made a shooing gesture with her hands. “Well, let’s go. I’m freezing.”

“It’s gonna get a whole lot colder,” Finn said as he got out.

“Then we’d better walk fast.” She started up the road, stepping high to clear the foot of snow already packing the road.

They’d have to walk really fast—she wore her knee-high boots and a pair of jeans, but that wouldn’t be enough. They’d pilfered warm clothes, jackets, gloves, and caps from a home depot store before hot wiring the Jeep, but a person really needed thermal underwear up here to stay warm outside.

The wind howled at them as they began trudging through the snow. For a few feet, he left bloody footprints behind him until the snow made them disappear.