Poor Makayla does not do well in enclosed spaces, specifically spaces she's trapped in. And there's no Clay coming to save the day and break a door.
Thick, blinding snow whipped across the highway, turning the landscape into swirling chaos. I barely blinked, my focus fixed on the road ahead. The biting wind howled outside, but determination surged within me. My knuckles turned white as I gripped the wheel, pushing through the storm. The engine purred beneath me, a steady reminder of my resolve with each turn of the tires on the icy asphalt.Next to me, the flash drive in the console felt alive, pulsating with energy. It contained everything I needed to dismantle Stacey Sherbourn’s empire—a foundation built on deceit. Inside were damning emails, revealing agreements, and hidden financial transfers that exposed her greed. These weren’t just documents; they were weapons poised to ruin her and shatter her carefully crafted image. The weight of their implications was palpable in the small space between us.Pockets, my loyal companion, stretched beside me before flopping back onto his blanket, blissfully unaware of the danger ahead. His
The cabin creaked as the wind howled outside, rattling the shutters with icy fingers. I barely noticed. My pencil glided over the sketchpad, the delicate curves and sharp angles of a new design taking form under my fingertips. The flickering glow of the fireplace cast shadows across the page, the soft crackle of burning wood filling the quiet space around me.Outside, the snow fell harder. Thick flakes swirled past the window, disappearing into the endless white expanse of the Rocky Mountains. The storm had been creeping in slowly and steadily since last night until the distant peaks vanished beneath a heavy veil. The world beyond my cabin blurred into a wintry void.I let out a soft sigh, tilting my head as I examined my latest creation with a mix of pride and contemplation. The floor-length coat stood before me, its silhouette gracefully cinched at the waist, draping effortlessly over an imagined form that exuded strength and femininity. The oversized collar was a statement piece—bo
The first thing I felt was warmth. A heavy, comforting weight pressed against my side, radiating heat that contrasted sharply with the last thing I remembered—the bone-deep cold of the storm, the blinding snow, the moment my tires lost control.I wasn’t in my car anymore.My eyelids were heavy, but I forced them open as consciousness clawed its way back. The ceiling was unfamiliar. There were wooden beams. There was a soft, flickering light. It was not my apartment, not a hospital. Not anywhere I recognized.I inhaled, my chest aching with the movement. Firewood. Tea. Something faintly herbal, clean. Not the sterile scent of antiseptic. This wasn’t a medical facility.Something shifted against me, and I turned my head, wincing at the sharp throb that flared at my temple.Pockets.His tiny, fluffy corgi-sized body was curled against me, his fur warm beneath my fingers as I instinctively reached for him. His breathing was soft but quick, his little chest rising and falling in short, une
The wind slammed into me as soon as I stepped outside, whipping snow against my face with icy force. I hunched deeper into my coat, gripping the flashlight tight as I trudged down the path toward the distant wreck. Each step sank deep into fresh drifts, the snow crunching stubbornly beneath my boots.I couldn’t shake the feeling that my night had taken a surreal turn.Tending to the woman’s injuries had felt awkwardly intimate, cleaning scrapes, bandaging bruised ribs, and covering her gently with blankets while she’d been unconscious. It wasn’t until she’d woken up that I’d finally put the pieces together, recognizing her vividly colored hair and those striking features. She was familiar—not personally, but from photographs splashed across the web, standing beside Stacey Sherbourn at elegant events. She was Makayla Hopkins, daughter of a New York senator, tech genius—and, according to the press, Stacey’s devoted long-term girlfriend.My jaw clenched tightly against the bitter wind.S
Sunlight seeped through the curtains, warming my skin as consciousness gradually returned. The dull ache in my ribs greeted me immediately—a lingering reminder of how close I’d come to disaster. Slowly, I pushed myself upright, careful not to aggravate my injuries, my eyes adjusting to the cozy bedroom around me.Pockets lifted his head, ears perking up as I stirred. He wagged his tail sleepily as if reassuring me everything was fine now. I smiled softly, scratching behind his ears. At least one of us had slept peacefully.The woman—my mysterious rescuer—had promised to go back out into the storm and retrieve my things. Had she really braved the blizzard for me, a stranger she’d found crumpled in a wrecked car? Doubt twisted inside me. Growing up surrounded by politicians taught me how empty promises could be. I needed proof.Taking a steadying breath, I slipped my feet onto the cold floor, standing slowly to test my strength. The pain was manageable, and as I wrapped myself in the wa
The tension lingered like smoke, winding silently through the cozy cabin as I rose carefully from the couch. Makayla sat quietly, her eyes fixed thoughtfully on the crackling fireplace, her fingers twitching slightly against the now-empty space on her lap. Pockets had climbed down from Makayla’s legs, stretched luxuriously, and padded toward me across the worn wood floor. He lifted his sweet, expressive face, offering a soft whine until I crouched and gently scratched behind his ears.“Hello again,” I whispered, smiling when his eyes drifted closed in pure bliss. “Looks like you’ve made yourself at home.”He nudged my hand affectionately before following me closely toward the kitchen. Behind me, I could feel Makayla’s gaze following my movements—curious, cautious, and sharply observant. It wasn’t overt suspicion. It was more like a wary uncertainty that mirrored my own.I busied myself filling the kettle and setting it on the stove, the faint click of the burner igniting as I reached
The darkness wrapped around us like a shroud, sudden and suffocating. I froze, heart pounding, blinking rapidly as my eyes adjusted to the abrupt loss of light. Beside me, Lilac sucked in a sharp breath, her tension mirroring my own. Even Pockets whimpered softly, pressing against my legs, seeking comfort I wasn’t entirely sure I could offer.“Are you okay?” Lilac asked, her voice steady despite the tremor of uncertainty hidden within.“Yeah, just startled,” I admitted quietly. My fingers reached out instinctively, brushing unintentionally against the back of Lilac’s hand before quickly pulling away. “What happened?”“The power’s out,” she said matter-of-factly, though her tone carried an underlying thread of anxiety. “The storm must have knocked down the power line, and since my generator hasn’t kicked on, something likely happened to it too.”I forced myself to breathe steadily, the sudden chill seeping into the cabin now that the fire had vanished. “Do you have flashlights? Candles
The tension lingered like smoke, winding silently through the cozy cabin as I rose carefully from the couch. Makayla sat quietly, her eyes fixed thoughtfully on the crackling fireplace, her fingers twitching slightly against the now-empty space on her lap. Pockets had climbed down from Makayla’s legs, stretched luxuriously, and padded toward me across the worn wood floor. He lifted his sweet, expressive face, offering a soft whine until I crouched and gently scratched behind his ears.“Hello again,” I whispered, smiling when his eyes drifted closed in pure bliss. “Looks like you’ve made yourself at home.”He nudged my hand affectionately before following me closely toward the kitchen. Behind me, I could feel Makayla’s gaze following my movements—curious, cautious, and sharply observant. It wasn’t overt suspicion. It was more like a wary uncertainty that mirrored my own.I busied myself filling the kettle and setting it on the stove, the faint click of the burner igniting as I reached
Sunlight seeped through the curtains, warming my skin as consciousness gradually returned. The dull ache in my ribs greeted me immediately—a lingering reminder of how close I’d come to disaster. Slowly, I pushed myself upright, careful not to aggravate my injuries, my eyes adjusting to the cozy bedroom around me.Pockets lifted his head, ears perking up as I stirred. He wagged his tail sleepily as if reassuring me everything was fine now. I smiled softly, scratching behind his ears. At least one of us had slept peacefully.The woman—my mysterious rescuer—had promised to go back out into the storm and retrieve my things. Had she really braved the blizzard for me, a stranger she’d found crumpled in a wrecked car? Doubt twisted inside me. Growing up surrounded by politicians taught me how empty promises could be. I needed proof.Taking a steadying breath, I slipped my feet onto the cold floor, standing slowly to test my strength. The pain was manageable, and as I wrapped myself in the wa
The wind slammed into me as soon as I stepped outside, whipping snow against my face with icy force. I hunched deeper into my coat, gripping the flashlight tight as I trudged down the path toward the distant wreck. Each step sank deep into fresh drifts, the snow crunching stubbornly beneath my boots.I couldn’t shake the feeling that my night had taken a surreal turn.Tending to the woman’s injuries had felt awkwardly intimate, cleaning scrapes, bandaging bruised ribs, and covering her gently with blankets while she’d been unconscious. It wasn’t until she’d woken up that I’d finally put the pieces together, recognizing her vividly colored hair and those striking features. She was familiar—not personally, but from photographs splashed across the web, standing beside Stacey Sherbourn at elegant events. She was Makayla Hopkins, daughter of a New York senator, tech genius—and, according to the press, Stacey’s devoted long-term girlfriend.My jaw clenched tightly against the bitter wind.S
The first thing I felt was warmth. A heavy, comforting weight pressed against my side, radiating heat that contrasted sharply with the last thing I remembered—the bone-deep cold of the storm, the blinding snow, the moment my tires lost control.I wasn’t in my car anymore.My eyelids were heavy, but I forced them open as consciousness clawed its way back. The ceiling was unfamiliar. There were wooden beams. There was a soft, flickering light. It was not my apartment, not a hospital. Not anywhere I recognized.I inhaled, my chest aching with the movement. Firewood. Tea. Something faintly herbal, clean. Not the sterile scent of antiseptic. This wasn’t a medical facility.Something shifted against me, and I turned my head, wincing at the sharp throb that flared at my temple.Pockets.His tiny, fluffy corgi-sized body was curled against me, his fur warm beneath my fingers as I instinctively reached for him. His breathing was soft but quick, his little chest rising and falling in short, une
The cabin creaked as the wind howled outside, rattling the shutters with icy fingers. I barely noticed. My pencil glided over the sketchpad, the delicate curves and sharp angles of a new design taking form under my fingertips. The flickering glow of the fireplace cast shadows across the page, the soft crackle of burning wood filling the quiet space around me.Outside, the snow fell harder. Thick flakes swirled past the window, disappearing into the endless white expanse of the Rocky Mountains. The storm had been creeping in slowly and steadily since last night until the distant peaks vanished beneath a heavy veil. The world beyond my cabin blurred into a wintry void.I let out a soft sigh, tilting my head as I examined my latest creation with a mix of pride and contemplation. The floor-length coat stood before me, its silhouette gracefully cinched at the waist, draping effortlessly over an imagined form that exuded strength and femininity. The oversized collar was a statement piece—bo
Thick, blinding snow whipped across the highway, turning the landscape into swirling chaos. I barely blinked, my focus fixed on the road ahead. The biting wind howled outside, but determination surged within me. My knuckles turned white as I gripped the wheel, pushing through the storm. The engine purred beneath me, a steady reminder of my resolve with each turn of the tires on the icy asphalt.Next to me, the flash drive in the console felt alive, pulsating with energy. It contained everything I needed to dismantle Stacey Sherbourn’s empire—a foundation built on deceit. Inside were damning emails, revealing agreements, and hidden financial transfers that exposed her greed. These weren’t just documents; they were weapons poised to ruin her and shatter her carefully crafted image. The weight of their implications was palpable in the small space between us.Pockets, my loyal companion, stretched beside me before flopping back onto his blanket, blissfully unaware of the danger ahead. His