“She knows about the south ridge,” I said. “She helped Julian choose this land last year.”

Outside, the wind howled through the pines, rattling the cabin’s wooden shutters.

Emma stirred on the couch, rubbing her eyes.

“Mama?” she murmured.

“I’m here, sweetie,” I said, sitting beside her and stroking her hair.

“Is the bad noise gone?”

“Yes,” I lied softly. “It’s gone. Go back to sleep.”

I stood up and walked to the window, peering through the slats of the blinds.

The snow was falling in heavy sheets now, obliterating the road.

Suddenly, two bright beams of light cut through the trees at the bottom of the ridge.

A vehicle was climbing the path toward the cabin.

It wasn’t Julian’s SUV.

It was a low, sleek sports car, its engine roaring against the incline.

“Marcus,” I called out, my heart rising in my throat.

The porch door opened, and Marcus stepped inside, his hand already resting on the holster under his coat.

“I see them,” he said.

The headlights swept across the cabin’s front windows, casting long, frantic shadows across the wooden walls.