Chapter 1 #2
The woman who opened the door defied every expectation.
Petite—barely reaching Winslet’s shoulder—with snow-white hair styled in an immaculate bob and wearing a bright turquoise pantsuit that should have looked ridiculous but somehow commanded respect.
Her eyes shifted between bright blue and something that glinted gold in the hallway’s soft lighting.
“Winslet Ward.” Not a question. “Come in, honey. We have work to do.”
The suite’s neutral décor provided a stark backdrop for this woman’s vibrant presence. She gestured to the sitting area with manicured fingers that somehow conveyed both authority and warmth.
“Gerri Wilder, I presume?” Winslet settled onto the edge of the sofa, every muscle coiled for flight.
“The one and only.” Gerri’s smile held secrets and mischief in equal measure. “Your uncle wasn’t exaggerating about the urgency. That brute Viktor has been circling your workplace all day trying to snatch you up, and your ex-fiancé’s patience is wearing thinner than his last victim’s breaths.”
The casual mention of victims sent ice down Winslet’s spine. “You know about Bracken’s business?”
“Honey, I know about lots of things that would curl your pretty brown hair.” Gerri moved with surprising grace for someone wearing four-inch heels, retrieving a suitcase from the suite’s bedroom.
“What matters is getting you somewhere he can’t reach easily.
Somewhere so remote and well-protected that even his particular brand of obsession will hit a wall if he finds it. ”
Winslet watched this strange woman with growing fascination and unease. Gerri radiated competence that felt almost supernatural, as if she’d orchestrated escapes like this countless times before.
“The Arctic research station in Northland Bay, Alaska.” Gerri produced a boarding pass and a heavy winter coat from the suitcase. “You’ll be assisting Dr. Elinor Frost with logistics and general caretaking duties. The cover story is thin, but it’ll hold long enough for what we need.”
“What kind of research station?” Winslet examined the boarding pass—a military flight leaving in an hour.
“Climate monitoring, wildlife observation, the usual scientific pursuits.” Gerri’s tone suggested those details mattered less than the isolation they provided.
“The town leader is quite protective of his territory. Doesn’t appreciate uninvited guests or unnecessary issues. But I’ll handle him when we get there.”
Something in Gerri’s phrasing sent warning bells through Winslet’s mind. The woman spoke of this mysterious town leader with a respect that bordered on wariness, and Winslet sensed layers of information being carefully withheld.
“And if I don’t fit in? If this protective leader decides I don’t belong?”
Gerri’s eyes flashed that strange gold again. “Trust me, sweetie. You’ll fit better than you think. Sometimes the places that seem most complicated turn out to be exactly where we need to be.”
The suitcase yielded more surprises—thermal underwear, insulated boots, and clothes that looked like they could withstand a blizzard. Everything in Winslet’s size, as if Gerri had known this moment would come to fruition someday.
“You can’t go back to your apartment. Bracken’s people are probably already there.” Gerri handed her another bag. “Everything you need for the first few weeks is packed. The rest can be sorted once you’re settled.”
Winslet hefted the bag, marveling at its weight and the implications of its contents. This woman had prepared for Winslet’s escape with frightening thoroughness, anticipating needs she hadn’t even considered yet.
“Why are you helping me?” The question emerged before Winslet could stop it.
Gerri’s smile softened, losing some of its mysterious edge. “Because everyone deserves a chance at happiness, honey. Even when they’re running from monsters.”
The word ‘monsters’ hung in the air with particular weight, and Winslet wondered if Gerri meant it more literally than metaphorically. But there was no time to probe deeper. Somewhere across the city, Bracken was discovering her absence, and his rage would be nuclear.
“We need to go.” Gerri moved toward the door with purpose. “My car’s in the underground garage. We’ll take the service elevator to avoid any eyes in the lobby.”
Winslet followed, clutching the bags like a lifeline.
Every step carried her further from the life she’d built and deeper into unknown territory.
But as they descended into the garage’s fluorescent-lit depths, she felt something she hadn’t experienced in months—hope, fragile but persistent, that maybe this time she could truly escape and find peace.
An hour later, Winslet and Gerri settled into their seats on the military aircraft.
The aircraft’s interior was designed for function not passenger comfort.
Bare metal walls, utilitarian seating, and the constant drone of engines created an atmosphere that matched Winslet’s churning anxiety.
She gripped the armrests tight minutes later when the plane took off, her knuckles white against the worn fabric.
“Storm systems are building over the sea,” Gerri said beside her, sitting poised with the grace of someone who’d weathered countless flights. “Nothing the pilot can’t handle, but it might get bumpy.”
Winslet’s stomach lurched as the aircraft hit a pocket of rough air. “Define bumpy.”
“Think of it as nature’s way of keeping unwanted visitors at bay.” Gerri’s eyes held that mysterious glint again. “Bracken’s people will think twice about coming to this place. The weather gets truly nasty sometimes.”
The mention of Bracken again sent a mix of fury and fear through Winslet’s veins.
Even thirty thousand feet above the earth, his shadow felt oppressive.
She closed her eyes and let her mind drift.
He’d wanted her to be part of his world, to smile prettily at dinner parties while money laundering and violence funded their lifestyle.
“You’re thinking too hard, honey.” Gerri’s voice cut through her spiraling thoughts. “The oxygen masks are above your head if you need them, but panic attacks at this altitude are particularly unpleasant.”
“I’m not panicking.” The words came out sharper than intended.
“Of course not. You’re just white-knuckling that armrest like it owes you money.”
Despite everything, Winslet’s lips twitched. “You have a unique bedside manner.”
“Comes from years of dealing with stubborn people who think they know better than the universe.” Gerri produced a thermos from her carry-on and poured steaming liquid into two cups. “Chamomile tea with a splash of something stronger. Trust me.”
The tea warmed Winslet’s throat and settled her nerves with suspicious efficiency. Through the small porthole, Seattle’s skyline had vanished beneath an endless expanse of clouds. Her old life was dissolving like sugar in rain.
“What if he finds me there too?” The question escaped before Winslet could stop it.
“Northland Bay isn’t like other places.” Gerri’s tone carried weight that made Winslet pay attention. “The locals are... very protective of their territory. Outsiders who bring trouble don’t usually last long there.”
The way Gerri said ‘don’t usually last long’ sent a shiver down Winslet’s spine. She didn’t want to be held responsible for any trouble she might be bringing with her to this remote place. But for the first time in two years, she felt something approaching relief.
Maybe isolation could be salvation instead of imprisonment.