His skin was rough, smelling of snow, tobacco, and the leather of his holster.

“Stay here, Claire,” he whispered. “Don’t let anyone in this room except the nurse we just saw.”

“Adrian, don’t do this,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “They’ll kill you.”

“They won’t,” he said, his voice dropping so low I could barely hear it. “I have a plan. Just hold on.”

He pressed his forehead against mine for a brief second, and I felt the rapid beat of his pulse in his temple.

In that second, I saw the subtle shift in his eyes—a glance toward the emergency exit diagram on the back of the door.

He wasn’t planning on letting Miller keep me here.

He knew the federal protection was a sieve, already compromised by Leo’s money.

He was going to get me out of this hospital, storm or no storm.

I thought of his family’s old cabin in the woods near Pembroke, a place with no phone lines and no registry.

A place where the snow would cover our tracks before anyone realized we were gone.