Chapter Eight #2
Prince looked at the box in Monroe's hand, then up at the desk manager's face. "What do you mean he hasn't returned?"
"Usually, before going back to the cabin, he stops by the front desk and talks with the staff, but no one has seen him all day," Monroe admitted.
Monroe's words didn’t sit right with him.
Finn had routines, and it seemed everyone who interacted with him knew that.
He was predictable. Responsible. He wouldn’t just disappear.
Prince's thoughts of Finn being with someone else no longer mattered.
Alarm bells went off inside him, and his jealousy shifted into something far more unsettling: worry.
Could something have happened to Finn?
Prince pushed the thought away. He didn’t want to think of the worst possibilities, but it clawed its way back in. He pulled out his cellphone to call Finn, only to realize he didn’t even have Finn's number.
Why the fuck don't I have his number?
Prince silently kicked himself for being an idiot. Then, when he glanced at the package in Monroe’s hands, he noticed the name of the sender printed clearly on the label.
Bevin.
Prince didn’t second-guess himself. He dialed his son right away.
"Hey, Dad, what's up?"
"Finn. I need his number," Prince said, none too politely.
"What? Why?"
"Just give it to me," he ordered.
"Not until you tell me why you want his number."
"I think he's missing," Prince said after a few seconds, debating how much to reveal.
"Miss… missing? Dad, what the hell are you talking about? Why would you think Finn's missing?"
Growing increasingly annoyed with his son's questions, Prince growled into the phone. "For fuck's sake, Bevin, just give me his damn number."
"Dad, you're scaring me," Bevin said.
The truth was, Prince was scaring himself. He had never yelled or cursed at his son since the day Bevin was born, not even when Bevin was fifteen and wrecked Prince's sports car. He had simply told Bevin that he was disappointed in his decision.
Prince closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Bevin, I don't have time to explain, but Finn has been staying with me, and I need to call him to make sure he's okay."
Bevin was quiet for a second too long, and Prince felt his annoyance spike. "Let me see where he's at."
"What the hell, Bev?"
"Dad, chill. Are you sure he didn't just meet someone and is spending time getting to know them? It's about time." The last part was muttered under his breath, but Prince heard him loud and clear.
"Bevin, don't let me hurt you when I see you," Prince growled.
"Fine, fine. Let me see where he is. I can track his location."
Of course they track each other. "Whatever, just get me something," Prince snapped.
"Huh, that's strange," Bevin said after a couple of minutes.
"Strange? What do you mean?" Prince straightened up, his grip tightening around the phone as he waited for Bevin to speak.
"I'm not getting anything," Bevin mumbled. "Maybe his phone is off, but that's not like Finn. He's the kind of guy who charges his phone even when it's at fifty percent.
"Dad…"
Prince hung up on Bevin without listening to what he had to say.
He turned to Monroe. "I might be overreacting, but something inside me tells me I'm not.
Call the local police and report a missing person.
Tell them to gather a search party, or whatever they need to do.
Have the staff ask around," he instructed, his voice steady even as something darker tightened in his chest.
His cellphone rang. Glancing at the screen, he saw Bevin's name, but he ignored it. Prince did not want to be distracted by his son right now.
"Yes, sir, but what are you going to do?" Monroe asked.
"I'm going to search for him."
Prince hurried out of the bar and got into his car.
He drove to the cabin, changed into warmer clothes and sturdier shoes, then grabbed the keys to his Jeep, which could handle the snowy, hilly terrain than his car would, and rushed to the detached garage.
Getting in, he peeled out and went searching for Finn, even though he had no idea where to begin.
Prince didn’t know why, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that Finn was hurt and possibly stuck in a snowy ditch somewhere.
He knew Finn wasn’t a professional skier, so he drove to all the places he figured Finn would frequent.
It was dark, and even with the moon out, it was hard to see.
The slopes had been closed for hours. No lifts ran overhead, no patrol lights moved across the mountainside, and no other skiers carved through the snow.
If he remembered correctly, Finn had worn all white today, which made the search even more difficult.
He could easily blend in with the snow. Prince drove to three different beginner slopes and grew increasingly worried when he didn’t see any sign of him.
Bevin had not stopped calling. No matter how many times Prince ignored it, the phone kept ringing.
After what felt like the twentieth call, he finally answered.
"Bevin, I haven't found Finn…"
"Dad, I picked up a signal," Bevin said, cutting him off.
Prince instantly slammed on the brakes. "What? Where?"
"Not far from where you are. Earlier, the satellite hadn't updated, so I couldn't get a read, but now it's coming through," Bevin explained quickly.
"Direct me to his location, now." His hands were shaking.
Bevin directed him toward Devil's Track, a double black diamond meant for seasoned skiers. The pitch was brutally steep. Finn had no business being anywhere near it. Even Prince, who had been skiing for years, had only tried it once and said, "Never again in this or any lifetime."
"Dad, you're close," Bevin said, and in the background, Prince heard rustling, but he was too preoccupied with trying to find Finn to question what his son was doing.
"How close?"
"Dad, stop. Stop right there," Bevin said sharply.
Prince hit the brakes, the Jeep sliding slightly before it steadied.
"You've gone past it. The dot's behind you."
Prince threw the vehicle into park.
"You can't drive any farther," Bevin continued, his voice tight. "The signal's above you. Maybe forty yards. It looks like he's off the main run."
Prince killed the engine. The mountain swallowed the sound instantly. No patrol lights cut across the slope. No distant voices. Just wind moving over the open snow.
He grabbed his phone, connected his earpiece, then switched on the flashlight before getting out. The cold hit him hard, but he ignored it, his focus entirely on finding Finn. The terrain ahead rose sharply, the pitch uneven and untouched.
"You're almost on top of him," Bevin said. "Dad, it scares me. Finn's signal hasn't moved in all the time we've been talking."
Prince did not comment. He moved carefully through the snow, his boots sinking deep. The snow shifted under him and he slipped, catching himself before he went down. His heart slammed against his ribs. If he was struggling to stay upright, what chance did Finn have?
"Dad," Bevin whispered. "You're right there."
Prince swept the bright light slowly across the slope.
All he saw was white, nothing but endless white, no matter where he walked or where he shone the light.
Then he spotted a faint pink stain on the white sheet, which froze him midstep.
Even with the snow that had fallen earlier, it was the only thing that had not been covered up, as if some divine being had left it for him to find.
Moving closer, the pink became clearer, and he could make out a shape poking out of the snow with trails of pink leading to it.
Prince breathed his name. "Finn." He rushed over, sliding down the hill, ignoring any danger to himself, ignoring Bevin trying to get his attention over the phone.
The only thing on his mind was getting to Finn.
He dropped to his knees, threw his phone down, and tore into the snow with his bare hands, not caring about the cold biting into his fingers.
His breath came faster when he saw the curve of Finn's shoulder, then his face half buried, his long lashes frosted with ice.
"Finn," he called out, brushing the snow away from Finn's mouth and pressing two fingers to his neck, searching desperately for any sign of life. For a terrifying second, Prince felt nothing but cold skin beneath his touch. Then, finally, there it was. A pulse. Faint and unsteady, but there.
Prince exhaled sharply, the force of his relief nearly knocking the air from his lungs.
For a moment, the world tilted, leaving him lightheaded from the rush of adrenaline.
He leaned closer, his breath clouding in the cold as it drifted across Finn's pale face.
With trembling fingers, he brushed more snow from Finn's cheek, careful but urgent, as if afraid Finn might slip away if he moved too slowly.
"Stay with me, baby," he murmured, his voice rough and unsteady. He didn’t dare move Finn, not knowing where he was hurt, but the sight of blood against the snow made it impossible to ignore the fear clawing at him.
On the phone, Bevin's voice cracked. "Dad? Did you find him?"
Prince didn’t lift his gaze from Finn, not even for a second. "I found him," he said, the words coming out on a shaky breath.
He was about to tell Bevin to call for help when his phone beeped with an incoming call. Glancing at the screen, he saw Monroe's name flashing.
"Bevin, let me call you back."
"No need. I'll be there in a few hours."
The call disconnected, and Monroe's came through immediately.
"Sir, the police and search and rescue are here."
"Good. Tell them to come to Devil's Track. I found Finn, and we need to get him to the hospital now."
He looked down at Finn again. His lips were turning purple, a stark contrast against the snow. Prince shrugged out of his coat and wrapped it carefully around him, rubbing his arms and shoulders, desperate to push warmth back into his body.
“Come on, Finn,” he pleaded, his voice breaking despite himself. “You can’t leave me, not when we haven’t even started. Come back to me, baby.”
Prince lowered himself over Finn, shielding him from the wind as best he could without shifting him, holding him close and praying the rescuers would arrive before it was too late.