Keeping low, I scuttled over the small, flat shelf and up against the ridge. There was another ledge above me, offering cover from the higher points of the mountain. I didn’t think Arden was much higher than I was and began to look all around.

Still nothing but precarious rocks and frozen terrain.

I shivered, grabbed a handful of macadamia nuts from my pockets, and started up and over the next ledge. The snowpack was even more unstable as I went higher, and I kept close to the top of the ridge, hanging onto the established rock as I crawled up the mountainside.

I reached the top of the southern edge of Mount Windsor. Looking north, there was a deep gorge of smooth snow separating the south and north sides of the island. The cliffs heading down were extremely steep, and there was no way to safely head down from where I was.

I could see the entire island around me, all the way down to the Arctic Ocean. White snow, grey ice, and brilliant turquoise water looked so peaceful from my vantage point, I could almost forget the bloodshed that had already occurred in this remote, serene location. I couldn’t spend any time enjoying the scenery though—I had to keep moving.

I walked slowly on top of the precarious edge of the ridge, looking all around me as I did. My feet slipped a couple of times, and I watched the loosened snow form small mounds and roll down the mountain face. Up ahead of me was a large standing of rocks, and I headed toward it.

Crouching in a crevice, I paused to catch my breath. I was taking too many breaks, wasting time, but the wind was starting to penetrate the layers of clothing covering me and was even beginning to sneak into the gap at the bottom of my face mask.

I tucked the mask’s edges a little deeper into the neckline of my parka, making sure there was still plenty of room for my moist breath between my mouth and the fabric, taking care to avoid getting any part of my clothing wet.

My fingers were sore from the intense climb. I spent a couple minutes flexing them and making sure I hadn’t hurt myself. I wasn’t sure if I would even be able to tell; the frigid temperatures often masked injuries. I could barely feel the place on my leg where Arden’s bullet had grazed it earlier in the day.

Out of the corner of my eye, a dark shape caught my attention.

I had no doubt who it was, and my heart rate increased as I watched Arden make his way over the top of the ridge two hundred yards from where I remained hidden between the rocks. The assault rifle was slung over his shoulder and held in one hand as he used the other to steady his passage across the unstable rocks. He looked back and forth down the side of the cliff as if he was searching for a way down.

It was the best chance I’d had all day.

I backed through the rock formation, keeping my eye on him the whole time. I couldn’t risk losing sight of him. Slipping to just over the edge of the ridge, I held on with my hands as I moved from right to left across the narrow ledge, counting the hand-over-hand motions until I reached two hundred. Flexing, I brought myself high enough to peer over the ledge but had to quickly drop down again, careful not to make a sound as I did.

He was right in front of me.

I closed my eyes and counted to five, breathing deeply to center myself. Bending my knee, I found a stable rock ready to take my weight, and then launched myself to the top of the ridge.

Arden turned toward the sound, but I was already jumping down on top of him. He tried to swing the AR in front of him as we collided, but the shot he fired went far off to my right. We landed in the snow with him on his back and me straddling him.

My first punch went straight into his chest, the second into the side of his head. I could have gone for the piano wire at my waist, or even the Busse I’d taken from Dytalov’s body, but I didn’t. I wanted to hit him. In that instant, I blamed him for everything that had occurred over the last month.

Arden was as slippery as the ice near the shoreline. Every punch I threw at him made contact but not in a vital place. He had one hand on my chest, grasping at the front of my parka. The AR was still gripped in his other hand, but he couldn’t maneuver it into position to fire.

He could, however, hit me with it, which is exactly what he did.

In the back of my head, I registered how good a hit it was. It takes a lot of strength to hit someone from a supine position, and he managed a sharp blow into my hip with the barrel of the weapon. It jarred me, and I started to fall to the side. Grabbing for his face, I tore off the mask protecting him from the wind as he shoved upward with both hands on my chest, and we rolled right into the base of the ridge.

We were both on our sides, each of us fighting to get on top of the other. I was bigger than he and more muscled, but he still managed to keep me at bay. He jammed the AR up against my side, and I barely managed to shove it away before he fired.

The blast went into the rock, showering us both with debris. The noise made my ears ring, and my body reacted by sending blood pounding through my head. My vision blurred, and I could feel my grip on him beginning to slip. As I ran out of options, I slammed my forehead into his.

It wasn’t as sharp a blow with all the cold-weather padding we each wore, but it was enough to send him to his back. The rifle fired off into the rock again, and the whole mountain rumbled in protest.

Arden pulled his legs up and jabbed at my abdomen with both feet. The blow wasn’t enough to knock the wind out of me, but his momentum was enough to send him rolling out of my reach. He was on his feet before I could do the same. By the time I had taken two steps closer to him, he was over the edge of the cliff.

I looked over the ledge and watched him slide down the steep incline through the snow. He was only barely in control of his descent and nearly hit an outcrop of rocks, but he had achieved his objective—to get the fuck away from me. Distance was his only advantage.

“Pussy,” I mumbled down the slope. “You think that’s going to save you?”

Speaking the words just made the answer obvious to me—yeah, that could save him. I had very few options in front of me: head down the mountain after him; look for a better way down; let him get away and start all over again.

“Fuck it,” I grumbled. I knelt near the ledge and launched myself over. I had to catch up to him before he found a stable place to regroup and properly aim.

Rocks and snow cascaded down the cliff along with me. I ran parallel to the snow as it broke away, keeping myself to the edge of the small snowslide. Arden was far below me, trying to slow his descent and get his footing. As the sliding snow stopped, I turned and began to gain on him quickly, pulling the garrote from the loop at my belt as I descended upon him.

Arden stopped, placed his foot against a rock jutting out from the snow, and wheeled about. The AR came up to his shoulder, and I could see directly down the barrel.

I leapt into the air, heard the shot, and felt the impact against my side. The Kevlar stopped it from entering my body, but the blow put me off balance. I careened into Arden’s side, grabbed hold of his arm, and we both began to roll down the mountain as snow slid around us.

With a grunt, my body stopped abruptly as I hit a patch of rocks. Arden’s fist was in my face a second later, and as I lay stunned, he brought the rifle up to my face. We were too close for him to use such a long weapon effectively. I punched his arm as he tried to get the rifle in position and pulled up my knee to slam into his side at the same time. The blast rang through my ears as the bullet hit the rock next to me.

We struggled to make contact with each other and with the rifle itself, but neither of us was able to get the advantage. I took a couple blows from the barrel of the weapon and also landed a few into Arden’s side and face. He took every hit with barely a grunt.

Desperate to gain advantage, I let go of the rifle and grabbed hold of the piano wire with both hands. I looped it over his head and pulled his face to my chest with the garrote. I couldn’t get it around the front of his neck, but he was at least unable to move enough to bring the rifle into position.

Growling, Arden swung the AR around and fired three shots in quick succession into the rock right below my face. He couldn’t have actually been trying to hit me, but I knew immediately what he was trying to accomplish.

It worked, too.

My head throbbed as the blast so close to my ear left me deaf. I couldn’t hear anything, but I could feel the ground beneath me as it rumbled.

A dozen things seemed to happen at once.

Flashes from Arden’s weapon were followed by a shower of snow and rock right above my head. I blinked, but all I could see was Arden’s body as a wall of snow slammed into his back and sent him flying over the top of me along with a wave of snow. My body twisted, and my legs were shoved up into my chest. I rolled backward and grabbed hold of the rock before I went over the edge.

There was nothing to see but white. It spun around and covered me as snow invaded my mask and filled my mouth. I felt the pressure against my body, my arms feeling like they were about to rip from their sockets. If I let go, I was going to be buried in the avalanche, just like Arden already was.

“I love your strength.”

Raine’s voice whispered in my head, tightening my resolve as I held on. Bits of rock slammed into me as snow covered me, and the pressure increased again. There was nothing I could do. I couldn’t breathe. There was no way to hold on. I wasn’t strong enough.

I lost my grip. As least for now, I was heading down the mountain the hard way.

Chapter Fifteen

I rolled completely out of control. All I could manage to do was to tuck my head down and wrap my arms around myself to keep from slamming into the rocks with a vital part of my body. My vision was obscured by the snow, and the only perceivable change was seeing everything go from all white, to slightly blue, to white again, and then to black.

I kept falling. The back of my head hit something hard, and white flashes invaded my eyes, joining the darkened snow as my goggles first filled with snow and then flew off. I tumbled, tried to turn and straighten myself as the powdered snow deepened, and again I couldn’t breathe. Remembering everything Landon had ever told me about avalanches, I started moving my arms and legs as much as I could in a classic Australian crawl stroke—trying to swim up and out of the snow before I lost all my breath.

The movement worked, and grey snow turned back to white. For a moment, my head was out from under the snow, and I could take a deep breath. It didn’t last long, and I was buried again quickly. I kept swimming down the slope, gasping for air every chance I got.

The rumbling and shaking finally slowed and then ended completely as I came to a sudden stop when my lower body hit something hard. I couldn’t see a damn thing, and I realized I was totally buried in the snow. My head pounded, and I wasn’t even sure which way was up.

I couldn’t feel my legs at all.

First things first. I need to breathe.

I moved my head from side to side and then forward, making a small pocket of air around my face. It wouldn’t last long, though—maybe a minute or two—so I needed to get unburied as quickly as possible. To do that, I needed to know which way to dig. With my head still dizzy from the tumble, I had no idea.

Gathering saliva in my mouth, I looked down into my ripped up mask and let the spit escape from my lips. Following gravity, it dribbled straight down my chin, which meant my body was angled vertically. A damn good sign if I ever saw one.

I wriggled my arm up my body until my hand reached my face. I made a bigger air pocket before I continued to use my fingers to dig upward. The ice and snow weren’t too packed, and it only took a minute before my hand popped through the surface. I was under about a foot and a half of snow, but at least I could see out and, more importantly, breathe.

I took a deep breath of chilled, fresh air. I still couldn’t feel my legs, but at least I had oxygen. Step one accomplished.

I closed my eyes for a minute and tried to recall anything and everything I knew about avalanches. Everything I recalled just told me I was fucked. Normally in this kind of situation—not that being caught in an avalanche was normal—someone would be nearby, looking to help. In my case, I already knew there was only one person still out there looking for me, and I hoped to God Evan Arden was under ten tons of snow and ice right now. It wasn’t the way I wanted to kill him, but it would still do the trick.