True North

Chapter 1

Luke was looking down at the granite table at the coffee shop, wiping it down.

The repetitive circles of his rag were the only thing keeping his mind steady against the hum of the espresso machine and the low chatter of the afternoon crowd.

He scrubbed at a stubborn coffee ring, focusing entirely on the friction under his hand, trying not to think about the clock on the wall.

Then, the brass bell above the front door chimed.

Luke didn't look up right away—until a familiar shadow fell across the granite table, freezing the rag dead in his hand.

He blinked, his eyes traveling up from a pair of rain-soaked boots, past a heavy trench coat that looked far too warm for a summer afternoon, to a face he had never seen before in his life.

It was a girl with dark, intense eyes, breathing heavily as if she had been running.

She wasn't holding a wallet or looking at the menu board.

Instead, her fingers trembled as she slid a thick, wax-sealed envelope across the wet granite, straight toward his hand.

"Are you Luke?"

she whispered, her voice barely cutting through the blender's noise behind the counter.

Luke slowly let go of the rag.

"Yeah.

Who's asking?"

The girl took a step back, glancing nervously toward the foggy coffee shop windows as if she were being watched.

"You don't know me.

But the person who wrote this told me that if anything ever happened to them, I had to find the boy working the granite tables in Seabrook.

You need to read this.

Right now."

Luke opened the envelope.

His fingers, slightly damp from the wash rag, trembled as he tore through the thick, crimson wax seal.

The texture of the paper beneath his thumbs felt heavy and expensive, completely out of place against the cheap napkins and sticky counters of the coffee shop.

He pulled out a folded piece of parchment and a single, glossy square of photo paper.

Before he even looked at the photograph, his eyes locked onto the messy, looping handwriting on the note.

A cold shock wave traveled down his spine.

He would recognize that handwriting anywhere.

It belonged to Maya.

It was the same handwriting that used to leave notes on his locker, the same handwriting that signed his yearbook with a heart, and the same handwriting on the brutal text message that ended their relationship last autumn.

She had disappeared without a trace the exact day the first snow hit the valley, leaving him with a shattered heart and a million questions.

Luke’s chest tightened as he read the first frantic line:

“Luke, if you are reading this, it means she found you.

I know you hate me.

I know you think I walked away because I didn’t care, but I had to run to keep you safe.

They are watching the town, Luke.

They are watching everyone.”

He swallowed hard, the noise of the coffee shop’s espresso machine suddenly sounding miles away.

He couldn't breathe.

The air in his lungs felt as icy as the December wind howling right outside the glass doors.

With a shaking hand, Luke flipped over the piece of photo paper that had been tucked behind the letter.

He expected a picture of Maya.

He expected to see her dark hair and the silver necklace he bought her.

Instead, his mind completely blanked at what he saw.

The photograph was old.

The edges were slightly yellowed and bent, showing signs of having been carried in a pocket for a long time.

It was taken on a fiercely snowy day, the background filled with heavy pine trees covered in thick sheets of ice.

In the center of the frame stood three children bundled up in oversized winter coats.

On the left was Maya as a little girl, flashing her signature gap-toothed smile.

On the right was Luke himself, wearing a ridiculous bright red beanie his grandmother had knit for him.

But it was the child in the middle that made Luke’s blood run cold.

Standing between him and Maya was a little girl with intense, dark eyes, holding up a handful of snow.

Luke blinked, his gaze snapping up from the photograph to the living, breathing girl currently standing on the other side of his granite table.

It was her.

The eyes were the same.

The sharp, determined slant of her jawline hadn't changed at all.

"You..."

Luke choked out, his voice cracking.

He looked back down at the photo, then up at her face again.

"This isn't possible.

I don't know you.

I've lived in this town my entire life, and I have never seen you before today."

The stranger didn't flinch.

She just stood there, the rain and melted snow dripping from the hem of her heavy trench coat, forming a small puddle on the clean coffee shop floor.

Her expression was dead serious, a mix of exhaustion and deep sadness.

"I know you don't remember me, Luke,"

she whispered, leaning over the granite counter so the customers at the nearby booths wouldn't hear her.

"But Maya remembered.

And right now, Maya is hiding with my family in a cabin up on the north ridge.

She’s freezing, she’s terrified, and she told me I couldn't come back without you."

Luke’s mind was spinning in circles, trying to force open a door in his brain that felt completely locked shut.

He stared at his own childhood face in the picture.

He remembered that red beanie.

He remembered that specific snowstorm when he was eight years old.

But every time he tried to look at the memory of the girl in the middle, his brain hit a brick wall.

It was like someone had intentionally erased her from his mind.

He looked back down at Maya’s letter, his eyes racing across the remaining lines:

“You have to trust the girl who brought you this, Luke.

Her name is Julianne.

Our families locked a secret away in the mountains years ago, and it’s the reason I had to leave.

Julianne is the only person who can guide you through the blizzard to find me.

Don't look back. Just go.”

"Julianne,"

Luke said, testing the weight of her name on his tongue.

It felt terrifyingly familiar, like a word he used to know a long time ago.

"We don't have time for you to have a crisis of faith, Luke,"

Julianne said, her voice dropping an octave as she glanced nervously toward the front doors.

"The snowstorm is getting worse, and the roads up to the cabin are going to be completely blocked by sunset.

Are you coming or not?

Luke didn't hesitate.

The anger he had carried for a year—the bitter pain of Maya leaving him without an explanation—suddenly evaporated, replaced by a desperate, pounding urge to make sure she was safe.

He ripped off his green coffee shop apron and tossed it onto the counter, right next to the wet wash rag.

His manager, a heavy-set man named Greg, yelled from the back breakroom about abandoning his shift, but Luke didn't care.

He grabbed his heavy canvas winter jacket from the coat hook, throwing it over his shoulders as he hurried out from behind the counter.

"My car is parked in the alley,"

Luke said, his keys already jingling in his hand.

"An old jeep.

It has four-wheel drive, but the heater is broken."

"Good.

We’ll need the traction,"

Julianne replied, pulling her hood up over her dark hair as they moved toward the exit.

The moment Luke pushed open the heavy glass doors of the coffee shop, the winter weather slapped him dead in the face.

The wind was a roaring monster, whipping flurries of sharp, icy snow across the street.

The sky was an ominous, dark gray, threatening to drop a massive blizzard over the entire valley before the night was through.

They ran down the alleyway, their boots crunching loudly against the freshly packed ice.

Julianne kept her head down, her hands buried deep in her trench coat pockets, her eyes scanning the shadows between the brick buildings as if a threat could jump out at any second.

The inside of Luke’s jeep was freezing.

White plumes of breath escaped their mouths as they slammed the doors shut, cutting off the worst of the howling wind.

Luke jammed the key into the ignition, and the old engine sputtered to life with a loud, mechanical groan.

He threw the vehicle into reverse, backing out of the alleyway and onto the main road that led toward the base of the mountains.

The windshield wipers groaned as they struggled to push away the heavy, wet snow piling up on the glass.

"Direct me,"

Luke said, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white.

"Where exactly is this cabin?"

"Take the old logging trail past the frozen river,"

Julianne said, staring straight ahead through the foggy windshield.

"Keep driving up until the road ends.

Then we walk."

"Walk? In this weather?"

Luke shot a look at her profile.

Up close in the dim light of the jeep's dashboard, he could see a faint, jagged scar just below her left ear.

It looked old.

"We’ll freeze to death before we make it a mile up the ridge."

"We won't freeze if we keep moving,"

Julianne said sharply, her tone cutting right through his panic.

"Maya has been up there for three days with a failing generator.

If you want to save her, you need to stop complaining and drive."

The silence that followed was heavy and tense.

Luke forced his eyes back onto the road, the tires of the jeep slipping slightly as they began the steep, winding climb into the dark mountain forest.

Twenty minutes into the drive, the storm completely tore away any remaining daylight.

The headlights of the jeep cut through the darkness, illuminating nothing but a blinding wall of swirling white snow.

The roads were no longer paved; they were driving over packed ice and hidden tree roots on the abandoned logging trail.

The broken heater in the jeep was making things miserable.

The temperature inside the cabin dropped rapidly, frost beginning to form on the inside corners of the windows.

Julianne was shivering.

Despite her tough attitude and her sharp words, her shoulders were shaking violently beneath her heavy trench coat.

Luke looked over at her, feeling a strange tug in his chest.

He reached into the backseat, blindly feeling around until his fingers caught the edge of a thick, wool blanket he kept for emergencies.

He pulled it forward and tossed it onto her lap.

"Take it,"

Luke muttered, keeping his eyes glued to the treacherous road.

"I don't need you passing out from hypothermia before we even get there."

Julianne looked down at the blanket, surprised.

For a second, the harsh, guarded walls around her seemed to slip, revealing the terrified teenager underneath.

She pulled the wool blanket tightly around her shoulders, burying her chin into the fabric.

"Thanks,"

she murmured, her voice losing its sharp edge.

"I forgot how cold the winters get in this part of the valley."

"You said you forgot,"

Luke said, seizing the opportunity to finally get some answers.

"That means you used to live here.

If we were friends as kids—if we were close enough to take a picture together in the snow—why can't I remember you? Why did your family leave?"

Julianne stared out at the passing, shadow-like shapes of the snow-covered pine trees.

For a long time, the only sound was the rumbling of the jeep's tires over the ice.

"Our parents worked together at the old research facility near the peak,"

Julianne finally said, her voice quiet and hollow.

"They were involved in something dangerous, Luke”