Finding Peace (Willow Creek Ranch #2)

Chapter 1

Chapter one

Abigail

The ATV rattles beneath us as it cuts through the woods, the suspension groaning every time we hit a rut hidden beneath the snow.

Branches scrape along the sides, sharp and shrill, and cold air leaks in through every seam of the enclosed cab.

The engine drones steadily, too loud in the quiet night, vibrating through the seat and straight into my bones.

I can’t see anything through the hood, but I can feel the way the ground changes beneath the tires—packed snow giving way to softer drifts, the machine slowing, pushing harder.

Time stretches strangely. It’s been long enough that my wrists ache where the plastic bites against my skin.

Long enough that I’m sure the guys have noticed I’ve been gone for too long.

Long enough that a terrible part of my brain wonders if maybe they aren’t on their way.

Then one of the men in front mutters, “We should’ve already hit the access road.”

“Would you relax?” the other snaps. “We’re close. Just gotta cut through the trees.”

The ATV lurches slightly as they veer between tighter trees. I sway with the movement, my shoulder brushing Kat’s. She’s shaking beside me—whether from fear or cold, I don’t know. Probably both.

Suddenly, one of the men hisses, “Did you see that?”

“See what?” the other asks.

“There—back there.”

The engine pitch changes as the driver eases off the throttle—my pulse stutters.

“I didn’t see anything,” the other says too fast. “Don’t slow down.”

Then, through the fabric of the hood, I see it too. A brief sweep of brightness flashes through the trees behind us.

Light.

“What the fuck is that?” one of them asks.

“Keep going. It could be the cops. We can’t—”

Another beam slices through the dark. Closer now.

“That’s not the cops,” the other says.

There’s a pause. It’s heavy. Charged.

“They’re on horses,” someone breathes. “Fuck.”

“Turn,” the passenger snaps as the ATV picks up speed. “Turn now.”

“I don’t want to go off course. We’ll lose—”

“Turn the fucking wheel!”

The steering wheel jerks hard to the left, and the ATV bucks hard beneath us, the sudden jolt snapping my head forward as the tires spin uselessly in the snow.

They turn again. It’s sharp this time, and my shoulder slams into the door.

Pain flares, bright and hot, but I bite down on the sound trying to claw its way out of me.

Then… the ATV sinks.

Not slowly.

All at once.

The front dips, the back fishtails, and the whole thing shudders to a dead stop.

Voices explode from the front seat. “Fuck—fuck! It’s not movin’!”

“Gun it!”

“I am!”

The engine screams, high and desperate, but the machine doesn’t go anywhere.

“We’ve gotta get the fuck out of here!”

My stomach drops as it finally hits me.

Those voices.

I’ve heard them before. In that grocery store in Billings. In the alleyway outside the Busted Barrel.

The Coates brothers. Well, two out of the three at least. The third must be in the second ATV.

“Get out!” one of them shouts. “We gotta dig it out.”

The engine cuts, and silence crashes down so suddenly my ears ring. My heart’s pounding loud enough, I swear they can hear it.

Doors slam open.

Boots hit the snow.

That’s when I feel Kat move beside me.

Just barely a shift of the weight, followed by a stuttering breath. I turn my head as much as the hood will allow, pressing my shoulder into hers.

The seatbelt digs across my chest, pinning me in place, but my hands—bound in front—fumble blindly along the strap. My fingers shake so badly I miss it twice before I find the buckle.

Click.

Kat slumps forward, just enough for her bound hands to reach my belt.

Click.

We’re loose.

We tear our hoods off, wanting to free ourselves as quickly and efficiently as possible, knowing good and well the moment they see us with them off, whatever silent plan we’re brewing will be over.

I feel Kat moving about the cab for a moment before she grabs for my wrists and pulls them forward. The feeling of something hard and sharp sawing at the plastic around my wrists vibrates through my body until finally—

Snap.

My hands are free.

Making as little noise as possible while the two idiots fumbling around out in the snow continue digging the ATV out with their hands, I grab Kat’s hands—my fingers numb and clumsy from the cold and adrenaline—and reach for the same sharp edge.

“Hurry,” she whispers, voice trembling with fear.

The second the tie gives way, Kat’s eyes snap to mine. Her face is pale. Tear-streaked. Eyes wild and shining. I push her hair back with shaking hands, and she does the same to me. Her thumb brushes my cheek before she briefly presses her forehead against mine.

“I’m sorry,” she breathes.

I shake my head as a tear falls from my eye. “We have to go. I love you.”

Her eyes search mine for a moment, memorizing me, before she whispers, “I love you, Anya.”

We don’t waste another second.

We fling the doors open and run.

I go toward the sight of light flashing through the trees, blindly hoping Kat’s following me.

But when I turn around to check, I see her running in the opposite direction.

Shouting erupts near the ATV, and I know I don’t have time to call after her.

“Hey!”

“Fuck—stop!”

Footsteps pound through the snow behind me as I trudge through the thick powder as best as my short frame will allow.

“We can’t lose this one!” one of them yells. “Boss doesn’t care about the other one!”

Branches whip my face as I run blindly through the dark, my lungs already burning, the cold air stabbing deep and sharp with every breath.

That’s when I hear it.

Hooves.

Distant.

Thunderous.

Real.

My chest tightens painfully as hope surges so hard it almost knocks me off my feet.

Come find me.

I push harder, legs screaming, boots punching through snow that feels too deep, too heavy. Then, the trees thin without warning, and I burst out into open space.

The snow is untouched here, drifting high and soft like waves in the sea, swallowing my calves. Every step is a fight as I move toward them.

Willow trees loom ahead, their long, skeletal branches hanging low and whispering in the wind as the light of the full moon shines down on the river.

Another engine sounds behind me.

I veer right, toward the low branches of the willows, hoping they’ll hide me from the two men still running at me and the ATV that’s not far behind. But before I know it, my foot slips as the ground slopes sharply downward.

And then I’m falling.

The world tilts violently and cold slams into me like a living thing.

The river steals the breath in one brutal rush. Icy water swallowing me up to the waist, then higher… and higher. Soaking my clothes and dragging me down.

I scream, but it comes out broken. Stolen by the shock of the frigid water.

It takes a minute, but the cold morphs from shock to pain. My muscles seize. My limbs feel thick, unresponsive, like they don’t belong to me anymore. Water wraps around my legs, then my hips. Tugging me down hard. Insistent.

I claw at the embankment, fingers scraping uselessly against mud and frozen roots.

My teeth chatter so violently my jaw aches.

I hear shouting.

They’re closer now.

Then—hooves again.

Louder this time.

Come find me.

I sob, the sound tearing out of me as I fight the river, the cold, my own failing body.

But the cold is greedy.

It crawls up my ribs, into my chest, squeezing like a vise.

My fingers stop obeying.

The sounds blur.

The Coates brothers’ voices fade first.

Then the hooves.

The river rushes louder, filling everything, until it’s the only thing left.

The last thing I feel is the cold pressing deeper—and then even the sound of my own breath is… gone.