Chapter 16 Gregory
Gregory
The deep snow crunches under my boots as we trudge back toward the house, and all I can think about is last night.
Her skin under my hands. The sounds she made. The way she surrendered completely when I pinned her wrists and proved that every inch of her was mine to claim.
Fuck.
I need to focus. We just spent four hours repairing a fuel line in subzero temperatures, and my back aches from being hunched over machinery, but all my brain wants to do is replay the moment she came apart beneath me by the firelight.
When I kissed her in the generator shed, it was all I could do not to strip off my pants and fuck her right there.
If it wasn’t so goddamn cold, I might have.
“Gregory, wait.” Sorrel says behind me.
I stop instantly, and turn around to look at her.
She’s staring at something near the north side of the house where we’ve been storing the food.
“What is it?” I move beside her, following her gaze.
That’s when I see them. Large tracks in the snow, circling the storage area. The prints are massive, easily four inches across, with four toe pads and no claw marks visible.
My blood turns colder than the air around us.
“Mountain lion,” Sorrel says quietly. Her voice is steady but I can hear the fear underneath. “The tracks are fresh. Probably from this morning after the storm cleared.”
I step closer to examine them, and the pattern becomes clearer. The cat circled the entire storage area multiple times, investigating. “How the hell did it walk on top of the snow without sinking?”
“Large paw surface area distributes its weight,” she whispers, slipping into scientist mode.
“Plus the snow has had time to settle and compact after five days of accumulation. A two-hundred-pound cougar can move across snow that would swallow us because of how that weight gets distributed across those paws.”
Two hundred pounds of apex predator. Drawn here by the scent of our meat supply, which is supposed to frozen. And it can run on top of the fucking snow, giving it easy access to our most vital body parts.
Fucking perfect.
“We need to move the food back inside,” I say immediately. “Into the fridge.”
“No.” She shakes her head. “That means plugging the fridge into the wall and draining our precious generator fuel. We’ve got maybe two more sessions with that generator before we’re completely out.”
“Then we bring it all inside and let it rot.”
“The scent will still linger here for hours,” she counters. “And the mountain lion has likely already marked this area with urine. It knows this is a food source now. It’ll come back whether the meat is here or not.”
I want to argue but she’s right. Moving the food won’t eliminate the danger, it’ll just waste our limited resources.
“So we leave it,” I say flatly.
“We leave it.”
The thought of that thing prowling around my property, around her, makes something primal surge in my chest. I’ve spent billions building a mining empire, controlling supply chains across three continents, but I can’t control this.
Can’t pay it to go away.
Can’t intimidate it with lawyers or board votes.
Fuck. What’s the point of having all this fucking money if I can’t protect her when I need to most?
“New rule,” I tell her, my voice coming out harder than intended. “We stay together. Everywhere. No going outside alone. Not even for thirty seconds.”
Her eyes widen slightly at my tone, but she nods. “Agreed.”
I pull her against me, probably too roughly, but I need to feel her solid and safe against my chest. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
I claimed her last night and every molecule in my body knows it.
She looks up at me, and I realize she’s blinking away tears. It makes me suddenly get emotional as well, and I have to look away.
“We should grab some food while we’re out here,” she says quietly, her breath visible in the freezing air. “Steak and chicken for supper. All we’ve had today was nuts.”
My mind instantly goes to the gutter. “Those nuts you had were pretty good though, weren’t they? Though I suppose you liked the banana best.”
She giggles, slapping me with her mitt. “Stop it, silly. You know what I mean.”
I release her reluctantly and we approach the storage area together. I keep an eye on the tree line, scanning for movement, for the flash of tawny fur against white snow. While it’s getting dark, the reflective snow makes it easy to see quite far into the trees.
When we reach the bins, they’re exactly where we left them, perfectly organized according to her system.
“The bins are mostly scent proof,” she says, opening one carefully. “But the overflow bags? The frozen meat in them will absolutely let scent escape. I knew it was a risk. Too bad.”
She hands me a wrapped steak and chicken. I take them, noting how her hands shake slightly. Not from cold.
“Let’s go.” I put myself between her and the tree line as we head back through the deep snow. I’m scanning constantly. Every shadow looks like a threat.
Finally we make it inside, and the warmth of the great room feels like heaven. I drop the meat on the kitchen counter and immediately return to the great room. I check the fireplace, adding logs until the flames roar.
We strip off our outer layers and huddle by the fire. She’s shivering despite the flames, so I pull her onto my lap and wrap my arms around her. She doesn’t protest, just melts against my chest.
After a moment I pause and listen carefully... I can still hear the generator faintly, rumbling somewhere outside.
We’re wasting fuel.
I gently shove her off my lap and stand to flick a nearby light switch. It turns on. “We have power.” I pull out my laptop. “Time to see if this was all worth it.”
I plug in the laptop.
“Should I charge my laptop, too?” she asks.
“Save the fuel,” I tell her. “Mine has Starlink built in. If we can get internet, we only need one device.”
The laptop boots up and I watch the battery percentage climb slowly. One percent. Two percent. The Starlink dish should have powered on automatically when the generator turned on. I check the status indicator visible through the system tray.
Come on.
Just give me a signal.
The connection icon flickers.
Searching.
Searching.
It turns green.
“We have internet,” I announce.
“Holy shit,” Sorrel breathes beside me.
I pull up my email and the inbox explodes with messages. Three hundred and forty-seven unread. My phone connects to the WIFI router and starts buzzing as texts download as well, the notifications coming so fast the screen looks like it’s having a seizure.
Marcel: Where the fuck are you?
Marcel: The board is losing their minds.
Marcel: Gregory, PLEASE respond. They’re talking about declaring you incapacitated.
My lawyer: Urgent. Call immediately regarding Brazil lawsuit developments.
My lawyer: Gregory, if I don’t hear from you by EOD Monday, I’m filing an emergency motion.
Marcel: The media thinks you’re dead or in hiding. This is a PR nightmare.
The outside world crashes through the screen like a wrecking ball through glass. Board meetings. Lawsuits. Media speculation. The empire I built teetering while I’ve been here playing house.
Fuck me.
I try to read one of the emails. It doesn’t load.
I pull up a browser and try to load a webpage.
The connection drops.
“Shit.” I watch the system tray icon turn gray, then flicker, then turn dark. “Come on. Come on.”
Nothing.
Sorrel leans over my shoulder, close enough that I can smell her coconut shampoo mixed with woodsmoke. “Try refreshing the browser?”
I do. The page times out.
“The dish must be buried,” I mutter, checking the Starlink diagnostics. “There’s probably a snow drift on the roof, courtesy of the storm. We’re getting intermittent signal at best, not enough bandwidth for anything useful.”
“Can we clear it? The drift?”
I glance out the window. It’s full on twilight out there. “We can. But it’s past five. Sunset was at four fifty. By the time we eat supper, it’ll be after six.”
“Too dark,” she finishes.
“Well, there are flashlights. But with that mountain lion prowling around?” I shake my head.
“We’d be climbing onto the roof with a predator watching,” she agrees. “A predator designed to hunt specifically at night. A two-hundred-pound ambush predator who can pad atop snow and climb rooftops just as easily as trees. That’s not a calculated risk, that’s suicide.”
Shit. Definitely not going up there in the dark, then.
I try my satellite phone next, powering it on now that it has some charge. The screen lights up but the signal indicator stays stubbornly empty. No satellites locked.
“Without clear line of sight to satellites, these are expensive paperweights,” I say, shutting it off to conserve battery.
“Satellite phone coverage has always been spotty out here. Mountains block the signal, atmospheric interference, the usual bullshit. That’s why I installed Starlink in the first place.
Better coverage, more reliable.” I glance at the laptop where the connection icon sits stubbornly black.
“But that dish is buried under God knows how many feet of snow. We need it clear. Tomorrow morning. First light.”
“And we need to conserve the generator fuel,” Sorrel adds, her voice practical despite the disappointment in her eyes. “We’ve maybe got two more sessions like this before we’re completely out. The next time we power up, it has to be when we’re ready to actually call for rescue.”
The words hang between us.
Rescue.
The thing we’ve been working toward. The thing that will end whatever this is between us.
I can still hear the generator faintly from outside, rumbling in the distant background.
I grab the remote starter from the mantle, and hit the button. It doesn’t turn off.
“Fuck sake,” I say.
I try again. Nothing. I flick a light switch. Turns on. Still has power.
I stand abruptly. “Looks like I’m going to have to go outside to shut down the generator.”
“What? You can’t!” she says. “We just agreed that it’s not safe to go out there after dark.”
“Yeah, but this is non-negotiable,” I reply. “Because when the fuel runs out shortly, we’ll have no way to power the Starlink dish.”
“Then I’m coming with you,” she announces.
“Sorrel, it’s cold as fuck out there. Plus that cat could be anywhere.”
She crosses her arms, and I recognize that stubborn set to her jaw. “You told me we stay together. Everywhere. Your rule, not mine.”
I want to argue that I’m perfectly capable of walking fifty yards alone, but she’s right. I made the rule. But the thought of her outside with that cat prowling in the dark, even with me present, makes my chest tight.
“Maybe it just needs a battery change,” she suggests.
“Maybe,” I agree. “Except I don’t know where Thomas keeps the batteries for this thing.”
I grab the remote starter again. Hesitantly press the button.
Work work.
Please fucking work.
That distance grinding noise instantly subsides. Holding my breath, I double-check by flicking a light switch.
It stays off.
My shoulders drop as tension I didn’t even known I was carrying drains out of me in one long exhale.
Thank fuck.
Sorrel is safe.
“The generator is shut down,” I announce. “We don’t have to go outside.”
She wraps her arms around me in a fierce bear hug, and cries audibly in relief.
Jesus. She’s really that afraid of the mountain lion?
Probably has good reason to be. I’m sure she’s seen ample evidence of what they can do to animals during her field expeditions.
I hold her tightly, not wanting to let go.
Finally she sniffles and pulls away, then quickly rubs the tears away.
“I’ll cook,” she offers.
“And I’ll watch.”
She laughs softly and I follow her into the kitchen.
I settle onto one of the kitchen island stools and do exactly what I said.
Watch her.
How she fires up the burner with quiet competence. How she seasons the steak and chicken. The concentration on her face as she manages the timing of each.
We eat mostly in silence. Every time I catch her eye, she looks down with this demure little smile that makes me want to sweep everything off the island and fuck her right there.
When we’re done, she cleans the dishes with melted snow from one of the storage containers, and then we move to the great room and settle by the fire.
She curls against me without prompting on the sectional, her head on my chest, my arm around her shoulders.
“I’m scared of what happens when we get rescued,” she whispers into the firelight.
My arm tightens around her reflexively. “Me, too.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” I stare into the flames, watching them dance and flicker. “Whatever happens, we face it together.”
But even as I say it, doubts creep in like frost through cracks.
When we go back to our real lives, what then?
Do I magically transform into someone who doesn’t poison groundwater for profit?
Does she overlook that I built my fortune on the destruction of ecosystems she’s dedicated her life to healing?
Do those three hundred frantic emails disappear?
Does the board suddenly decide I’m not a liability?
Does the Brazil lawsuit just fucking vanish?
I don’t say any of that. Instead I hold her tighter and tell myself tomorrow’s problem can stay tomorrow’s.
Tonight, she’s here.
Safe in my arms.
Mine.
And I’ll be damned if I let anything take that away.
She shifts against me, tilting her head back to look at me with a sudden mischievous glint in her eyes. “You know, we’re kind of stinky again.”
My hand slides down to her hip. “Are you complaining about my hygiene?”
“I’m complaining about both of our hygienes.” Her smile turns wicked. “I feel like taking a bath. Want to join me?”
Every muscle in my body goes tight. The image of her naked and wet, of steam rising off skin I’ve already mapped with my hands and mouth, hits me hard.
“We’ll have to melt more snow,” I manage, my voice coming out raw. “That’ll take time.”
“So we’ll take time.” She traces a finger down my chest, and fuck me if that simple touch doesn’t make my cock hard. “Unless you can’t wait that long?”
The challenge in her voice makes me want to throw her over my shoulder and carry her to our little spot in front of the fireplace right now.
“I can wait,” I tell her, catching her wrist. “But you’re going to regret teasing me when we’re both in that water.”
Her breath hitches. “Promises, promises.”
She extracts herself from my lap with a laugh, heading toward the mudroom with that sway in her hips that she definitely knows I’m watching.
With a growl that’s half frustration and half anticipation, I follow her.