Aj
The next day on the road isn’t much better. The farther we go, the more I’m convinced this country is nothing but snow and trees.
I barely slept last night.
And Wolff didn’t sleep at all.
I don’t think I’ve seen him sleep once since we started traveling together. It’s starting to show—circles carved deep under his eyes, the lines around his mouth harsher. His dark brown hair and beard have grown out, rough and uneven.
The air in the truck is drawn tight. Even the others are quieter than usual, only speaking when they have to. Snow starts falling again, slow at first, then thicker the farther we drive.
Miles drag by. The mountains rise in the distance, the trees growing denser, closing in
I don’t realize I’ve drifted off until my head hits the glass.
I jerk awake. “Shit.”
The truck swerves, the back tires slipping on ice. I blink, trying to focus. It must’ve been a while—everything outside is pitch black now, snow coming down so hard it’s almost solid, visibility gone.
Savva mutters something in Russian.
We hit another patch of ice. The truck fishtails, tires losing traction before catching again on the shoulder. As Savva fights the wheel, the engine snarls.
“We’re not making it any farther in this fucking storm,” he snaps.
“No,” Wolff grinds out from the passenger seat. “We’re too close.”
Savva fires something back in Russian, and the tension in the cab spikes instantly.
“What’s he saying?” I whisper, leaning toward Viktor.
Viktor keeps his voice low. “The volk wants to push to the safehouse. Savva says we stop here.”
“Here?” I glance out the window. There’s nothing. No lights. No buildings. Not even a clear break in the trees. Just snow and darkness swallowing everything. “Where? We sleep in the truck?”
Victor nods.
Wolff’s voice cuts through the space. He’s mad, practically shouting as he unfolds a map across the dashboard.
But not a normal one. Nothing with words or names I recognize.
It’s worn and creased so many times it barely unfolds flat.
Covered in markings—lines, circles, slashes—different colors layered over each other like it’s been rewritten a hundred times.
Some spots are scratched out completely, while others are circled with such a heavy hand that the paper’s nearly torn through.
“What kind of map is that?”
Viktor glances at it, then back at me. “Not a map you buy in a store.”
I look at him, head tilting.
He jerks his chin toward Wolff. “Men like him don’t use GPS. Too easy to track.” His voice drops lower. “That map…is his.”
“His?”
Viktor nods. “Safehouses. Old routes. Dead zones. Places that don’t officially exist. Some of those marks could be years old. Some…from last week.”
My eyes drift back to it. Wolff’s hand moves across the page, dragging a finger down one of the marked paths.
“How does he remember all that?” I whisper.
“The volk doesn’t forget.”
That…doesn’t make me feel better. Wolff snaps the map shut with a sharp motion and immediately starts arguing with Savva. Savva flicks his cigarette out the window and yanks the door open.
Cold air whips into the truck.
Wolff is out a second later.
I watch them through the storm, their voices lost in the wind, their breath fogging around them. I don’t need to hear the words to know Wolff’s furious.
Savva throws his hands up. Wolff yanks my door open and grabs a bag at my feet.
“Move.”
“What are you—” He hauls me out before I can finish. The wind chill hits like a wall and takes my breath away.
Savva stands off to the side. “The girl will freeze before you make it to town.”
“To town?” I yank my arm free. “What’s he talking about, Wolff?”
I can’t see his face in the dark, but I don’t need to. His body is tight and pulsing with anger.
Savva lets out a short laugh. “If you survive. We see you in morning, da.”
And just like that, he turns away.
“Wait, are we walking?” I pull my jacket tighter, panic creeping up my throat. “Wolff, what’s happening? Where are we going?”
With the duffle over his shoulder, he starts walking.
“Keep up or you’ll freeze.”
My eyes widen. He can’t be serious.
I glance back—the truck door slams shut.
“Wolff!” I shout as I stumble after him, my legs dragging through the thick snow. “You can’t be serious! We can’t walk in this— We’ll die!”
He doesn’t slow.
Doesn’t look back.
Just keeps moving, cutting through the storm like it doesn’t affect him.
“Wolff!”
He’s going to get us killed.
My lungs burn as I push forward, already falling behind. When I try to speed up, my boots slip in the deep snow. I lose my footing and go down hard on my hands and knees. “Shit.”
“Get up, AJ.”
“I can’t—” My fingers are already numb. The cold seeps through everything, pressing in, stripping the heat from my skin. “I can’t.”
He crosses to me, grabs the front of my jacket, and pulls me to my feet. The movement is so fast, I almost go down again. His fist twists tighter in the fabric.
“Move—”
“Why are we—”
He jerks me closer, his face inches from mine. “Shut your fucking mouth and walk.”
My breath catches. He looks unhinged. Something in his eyes makes my stomach drop. He turns without another word, dragging me along. I stumble after him, trying to keep up, his grip locked tight on my jacket.
The wind howls. Blinding snow whips across my face. It’s all I can see—white and endless.
We walk.
And walk.
And walk.
I lose feeling in my toes first. Then my fingers. My face. Everything goes dull. All I can focus on is moving forward.
One step.
Then another.
Don’t stop.
Don’t fall.
I don’t know how long we’ve been out here when the sound of a distant engine cuts through the wind. My head jerks up. Lights? Faint at first—then clearer. A small town.
Wolff doesn’t say a word, just keeps moving until we reach the edge of it. Buildings come into view. Dim lights. A grocery store. A few scattered shops.
And in the center—
An inn.
It looks like it’s barely standing. Missing roof tiles, peeling paint, the kind of place people forget exists. And right now, it might as well be Heaven. Wolff finally releases me as we step inside.