Chapter 5 Caleb
FIVE
CALEB
The cold hits me like a slap to the face when we step outside.
Snow falls in slow, lazy spirals, the flakes sticking to our coats, our boots crunching deep into the untouched drifts that blanket everything. The air smells sharp—pine, smoke, ice. It’s quiet enough that I can hear the snow landing.
I pull my grey balaclava higher over my nose, my breath puffing against the fabric. “This was your idea of fun?” I say, voice muffled but smiling underneath it.
Miguel laughs, his own mask covering the lower half of his face. He ties back his hair and pulls it up over his head. “You love it. Don’t lie.”
“I love not freezing my ass off.” I tilt my head and roll my eyes. “You know, like back inside with the cozy fireplace.”
He steps close enough that his body heat cuts through the cold, gloved fingers brushing my jaw through the fabric. “We’ll fix that later,” he murmurs. “You’ll be sweating soon enough.”
That sounds like … a promise and a threat.
He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a small, coiling, stretchy keyring. A single key dangles from it, catching the gray light. He loops it around my wrist, the plastic cold against my skin. “Okay, baby, listen up.”
I nod, my pulse already racing.
“There’s an old hunting cabin about two miles from the property,” he says, voice dropping into that tone that hits straight between my ribs. Slow, dominating, certain. “The owners said it’s still stocked, and they were kind enough to leave us the keys.”
Why the fuck would we want to go to a hunting cabin?
He leans closer, his breath warm against my ear even through the mask. “So I’m gonna chase you. If you make it there before I find you… You can do whatever you want to me.”
Sold.
I’ll freeze my nuts off and win just so I can have that power over him.
I look up, raising a brow even though he can’t see my full expression. “Whatever I want?”
Miguel’s grin is visible even through the knit fabric, the crinkle at the corners of his eyes giving him away. “Well, almost anything. I do have limits.”
“Almost anything, huh?” I say, taking a half step back, letting the teasing creep into my voice. “You sure about that? ’Cause I’ve got a pretty good imagination.”
“Baby,” he says, his voice going darker, dropping to a near whisper. “That’s exactly what I’m counting on.”
My mouth goes dry.
The key around my wrist glints when I lift my arm. “So… what, I just run?”
He nods. “You run. You hide. And you pray the snow slows me down.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
He tilts his head. “Then you’ll know what happens when I catch you.”
My ass is gonna get pounded in the snow.
The sound that leaves me isn’t exactly a laugh. More like a shiver trying to pretend it’s a smile. I tug my gloves tighter and take a step backward, boots sinking into the powder. The trees ahead blur together in the gray light, branches heavy with snow, paths barely visible.
He looks terrifying like this—broad-shouldered, black coat, balaclava hiding his face, only his eyes visible. Brown, beautiful, and dangerous. My chest aches just looking at him.
“I’ll even give you a head start,” he says, glancing at his watch. “Then I’m coming for you.”
I hesitate for half a breath, then take off running.
Miguel’s voice cuts through my heavy breathing as I make it to the tree line. “Four minutes.”
Fuck, this is going to be crazy.
I glance back, chest already rising faster than it should. The snow gives under my boots, deep and soft, slowing me down even when I try to move fast. The trees stretch out ahead like a wall of white and shadow. I shouldn’t look back, but I can’t help it.
Miguel stands in the middle of the yard, head tipped slightly as he watches me struggle through the snow. Calm. Patient. Like a wolf who already knows how to take his prey down.
It’s me.
I’m the prey.
“Three minutes,” he calls. “You’re wasting time looking at me, pretty boy.”
I take off deeper into the woods, snow kicking up behind me. My breath fogs in thick bursts inside my mask, my lungs burning from the cold. Every sound feels amplified—the crunch of my boots, the pound of my pulse, the faint rustle of wind through frozen branches.
Holy crap, this is… terrifying?
No, exhilarating.
I’m scared, but I know he would never hurt me.
I’m cold, but then my blood is on fire.
The cold claws at my cheeks and nose. My legs already ache from the resistance of the snow, but I keep moving, half running, half stumbling deeper into the woods. I can’t see much beyond a few feet—just endless gray and white.
“Two minutes.”
The sound echoes faintly behind me, carried by the wind. My whole body tightens.
I duck behind a thick pine, chest heaving. My fingers are shaking so hard I can barely adjust the balaclava. Pressing my back against the bark and letting out a shaky breath, I tried to listen for anything besides my own heartbeat.
Then I look around the trunk.
Miguel’s moving now—slow, deliberate. He stops, fumbles with something, and then slips the mask over his head. The same black one he used before, the one with the neon blue X’s over the eyes and stitching for the mouth.
It glows bright against the snowy dusk, electric and unreal.
My knees nearly give out. The sight shoots straight to my chest, then lower.
Fuck.
He knows what that does to me.
“Thirty seconds,” he calls, voice distorted slightly by the mask but still deep enough to rattle through the trees.
I turn and bolt.
I am not letting him win so easily. But I’m quickly learning that playing collegiate basketball means dick when it comes to running out in the elements.
My stamina sucks ass. Snow kicks up around my knees.
My body moves on instinct—ducking low, weaving through the trees.
Do I know where the fuck I’m going? Absolutely not.
Somewhere up ahead is that old hunting cabin.
Two miles of this.
Every muscle in my body burns, but the adrenaline keeps me moving. My breath rasps against the fabric covering my face, my heart hammering in my throat.
The sound of footsteps crunching through snow behind me hits like a bullet.
He’s catching up.
Miguel’s coming.
I press forward harder, slipping once, catching myself against a tree, the rough bark scraping my glove. The key around my wrist jingles, and it sounds as loud as a gunshot in the quiet.
“Caleb…” He croons, his voice carrying through the woods. Not shouting. Just that low, dangerous tone that curls around my name like a promise.
I freeze, turning my head toward the sound.
Miguel’s close enough that I can see flashes of movement through the trees, the faint blue glow of his mask blinking in and out between trunks.
“Keep running, pretty boy,” he says. “Don’t give up. Make me work for it.”
My body reacts before my mind does. I break into another sprint, heart in my throat, the snow dragging at my boots. Every part of me is shaking from cold, from adrenaline, from something else that burns hotter than both.
Branches slap against my coat. My breath turns ragged. I can hear him behind me now, not right on my heels but closing in, steady, measured. He’s not running full-out. He’s pacing himself.
Enjoying it.
Of course he is.
The motherfucker ran track and cross-country for years. Not that he ever did any runs in the snow, but I’m sure he easily adapts.
And I know he still runs.
I duck under a low branch and stumble, falling. My knee hits the snow hard, sending a shock of pain up my leg. I bite down on a groan and push back up, looking over my shoulder.
The faint blue glow pulses between the trees again, closer this time.
“Goddammit,” I curse under my breath and veer right, into a narrower path between the pines. It’s darker here, the light fading fast, the snow thicker. I push forward until my thighs scream and my lungs feel like they’re tearing.
I need to hide. Just for a minute.
Just so I can catch my breath and to make sure my knee isn’t bleeding.
There’s a fallen tree up ahead, half-buried in snow.
I drop behind it, crouching low. The world goes quiet again except for the sound of my heartbeat in my ears.
The knee of my snow pants is ripped but luckily the thermal pants I’m wearing seem to be intact.
A good thing about being in the freezing cold is that the pain is numbed, for now.
My gloves are soaked. My breath comes in short gasps.
I can’t stop shaking.
A faint crunch of footsteps.
Then another.
I press my hand against my mouth, trying to quiet the sound of my breathing.
“Where are you, baby?”
The sound of him calling me baby makes my blood heat. It’s closer, smoother, like he’s smiling underneath the mask.
I can feel him watching and I should be terrified. And I am, in a way. But underneath that is something deeper, hotter, and wrong in all the ways that make sense with him.
Only with him.
If someone else had taken me away to a secluded cabin and told me to run out in the cold… that’s a red flag if I’ve ever seen one.
I can taste metal on my tongue from breathing too hard. My whole body hums, strung tight. I shift slightly, trying to get a look through the branches.
The glow is gone.
Shit.
I twist around, searching the shadows. Nothing. Just white and gray and quiet.
Then, there’s warm breath against my ear.
“Looks like the monster found a pretty boy to play with.”
I gasp, twisting, but he’s already got a hand at the back of my neck, the other catching my wrist before I can pull away. He drags me up easily, spinning me so my back hits his chest.
He’s breathing hard too, the heat of it seeping through the mask, his body solid and hot against mine.
“Thought you said you were fast,” he murmurs.
“I—” My voice breaks, more air than sound.
“What’s the rule, baby?” he says, tightening his hold just enough to make my breath hitch. “You get caught…”
My body trembles. “You win.”
He hums, pleased. “That’s right.”
His hand slides lower, over my chest, his thumb dragging down the zipper of my jacket just enough to let the cold bite at my throat.