17. No Matter What
Seventeen
No Matter What
The forest stretched before them, silent as a graveyard but for the betraying crunch of their boots.
They slid into position, shadows among shadows.
Jay’s eyes locked with his, pupils black in the darkness.
“Alright. On your shot.” They split like wolves flanking prey.
Sawyer attacked the incline, snow betraying his weight with each desperate step.
Every footfall hammered him closer to the clearing, closer to her.
His pulse didn’t race; it steadied to a killer’s rhythm, blood rushing in his ears.
Jay’s signal, a piercing birdcall, shattered the night.
Sawyer locked onto his target. His finger caressed the trigger, time stretching thin as wire.
One perfect shot. He fired. The rifle exploded, echoing like thunder as the injured man’s head snapped back, body collapsing in a lifeless heap.
Addy jerked violently, eyes wild. The second man roared, clawing for his weapon as hell broke loose. Sawyer was already charging downhill.
* * *
The first gunshot split the air like lightning. Addy flinched hard, snow spraying across her cheek. The man beside her, Gus, shouted in surprise, stumbling backward as his companion went down instantly, a red mist blooming across the snow where his chest should have been.
For a heartbeat, silence.
Followed by a second gunshot that tore through the clearing.
Gus screamed, clutching his arm as the bullet ripped through flesh.
He staggered, nearly losing his balance before slamming a hand against a nearby tree to stay upright.
“Who’s out there?!” he shouted, his voice scraping like rusted metal against the pristine silence.
Blood seeped through his sleeve, dark and viscous as motor oil, releasing ghostly tendrils of steam into the frigid air.
The crimson stain spread across the fabric like spilled wine on a white tablecloth.
Addy’s pulse hammered in her ears like war drums, each beat drowning out the winter stillness. The sound of boots crunching through snow, faint but rhythmic, approached from the left. She recognized that cadence, that deliberate footfall that never faltered even in chaos. Sawyer.
Gus whipped toward the noise, his face contorted into a mask of primal fear.
He fired wildly into the dense pines, the muzzle flash illuminating his sweat-slicked face in orange bursts.
Snow and bark exploded in violent clouds, pine needles raining down as the shots went wide.
“Come out, you bastard!” he roared, his voice cracking like thin ice beneath too much weight.
Addy didn’t wait. She threw herself sideways, landing hard in the snow.
Her shoulder screamed in protest, but she didn’t stop moving.
Crawling toward the dead man’s body, she fumbled with her bound hands, searching for a weapon.
There, a knife strapped to his belt. Her fingers were clumsy and cold, but she got hold of the hilt and yanked.
The blade came free with a metallic hiss.
Another rifle crack echoed through the clearing, closer this time. Gus ducked low, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts. The smell of gunpowder and blood filled the air. He tried to reload, his trembling hands slick with crimson.
“Don’t,” Addy hissed, a copper tang coating her tongue, each word scraping her throat raw. “Don’t fucking do it.”
Gus’s pupils swallowed his irises, the surrounding whites veined red against skin bleached paper-white. “SHUT YOUR GODDAMN MOUTH!” Saliva sprayed from his lips, catching in the firelight.
His index finger curled inward—pine needles rained down as branches snapped.
Sawyer burst through the undergrowth, boots kicking up snow, breath clouding before him.
The rifle stock pressed against his shoulder, his knuckles white around the grip.
Gus spun, squeezed, CRACK; splinters of bark exploded beside Sawyer’s ear.
Sawyer pulled the trigger; his shoulder absorbed the recoil.
Gus’s chest caved inward, the sound like a sledgehammer hitting wet cement.
His boots left the ground, arms flung wide, jacket billowing.
When he hit the snow, red mist plumed upward, hanging in the air while his rifle tumbled end over end into darkness.
Steam rose from the spreading stain beneath him as the forest swallowed the echoes.
Addy sat frozen, the knife shaking in her bound hands, her heartbeat pounding so loud she could barely hear. The fire hissed softly beside Gus’s fallen body, smoke twisting through the cold morning air.
Boots crunched through the snow.
Sawyer came toward her rifle still raised until his eyes found hers. His shoulders eased the second he saw her. “Addy.”
Her breath hitched. She tried to stand, but her knees gave out halfway there. He caught her before she hit the ground, wrapping her tightly against him.
He crushed her against his chest, his heartbeat thundering through both their bodies.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered into her hair, voice breaking on each word.
His fingers trembled as they tangled in her matted hair, holding her as if she might dissolve into the snow beneath them.
He quickly grabbed the knife from her fingers and cut the bindings.
Emotion choked him as he saw the cuts from how tight the bindings were.
“Hey, look at me,” Addy said gently. “I’m okay, it looks worse than it is, I promise.” She dipped her head, trying to draw his eyes to hers. She could see the pain. She smiled; he leaned forward and kissed her.
Jay appeared moments later, rifle sweeping the tree line before he crouched beside them, his own eyes red-rimmed. “Are you okay?”
Addy’s throat constricted as she tried to nod, tears finally spilling over. “You found me,” she managed, the words barely audible.
Sawyer’s breath hitched, something between a sob and a laugh escaping him. “You left us a trail,” he said. His voice dropped to a whisper. “God, I thought I’d lost you.”
“I didn’t know if it would be enough,” she choked out, “I was so scared you wouldn’t—”
He pressed his forehead against hers, cutting off her words. “I would have burned down the whole forest to find you.”
Jay straightened, glancing back toward the ridge. “We need to move. If Gus had company, they’ll come running when they hear those shots.”
Sawyer nodded, his grip on Addy tightening protectively. “Let’s not stick around to find out.”
As they turned toward the woods, Addy leaned into him, exhaustion pressing down like lead.
* * *
When the cabin finally came into view through the thinning trees, relief hit all three of them—then vanished.
The back window had been punched inward, leaving a jagged mouth of glass teeth that bit at the air.
Shards littered the snow beneath like scattered diamonds, catching what little light remained in the day.
Inside, tattered blue curtains, now stiff with frost, slapped against the splintered wooden frame, each gust of wind forcing them to dance a frantic, broken waltz.
The hearth contained nothing but gray ash and blackened logs; their warmth was just a memory.
Ice crystals had formed along the cabin’s baseboards, creeping up the walls like silver mold, transforming their sanctuary into a tomb of winter.
Addy’s stomach turned, then steadied, then turned again.
The broken window repulsed and transfixed her.
Part of her wanted to run back into the forest, away from this violated space, but another part had a perverse need to touch the jagged edges, to confirm they were real.
The last time she’d been here, that window had been intact.
She trusted she was safe. Then they’d come crashing through, glass exploding across the floor as she screamed, and yet, wasn’t this still better than being out there with them?
Her breath hitched, and Sawyer caught the sound. He touched her arm lightly. “Hey,” he said softly. “You’re here now. They’re gone.”
She nodded, but her eyes stayed locked on the broken window.
The wind moaned through the opening, scattering bits of ash from the cold hearth. Sawyer crossed the room, crouching to inspect the damage. The wood around the sill was splintered; the glass had been blown outward where one of the men had likely shoved through.
“They broke it clean getting in,” he said tightly. “Could’ve been worse; they didn’t torch the place.”
Jay was already pulling a few rough-hewn pine boards from the lumber stack near the corner, his breath clouding around his face in the frigid air.
“We’ll seal it for tonight,” he said matter-of-factly, his calloused fingers testing each board’s width against the jagged window frame.
“You can tell this place lost all its heat hours ago.” He nodded toward the frost creeping up the interior walls like pale fingers.
“Let’s get that fire started too before we freeze.
My damn toes are already going numb in these boots. ”
Addy bent down, gathering the shards of glass that glittered across the floor. Each piece tinkled faintly as it hit the metal bucket beside her. Her hands shook, whether from the cold or from memory, she wasn’t sure.
Sawyer glanced over his shoulder. “Careful, 2B. Don’t cut yourself.”
“I’m fine,” she said softly, though her voice was distant.
Jay handed Sawyer a hammer and nails, then propped one of the boards over the window frame. Together they worked quickly, driving nails into the wood until the howling wind dulled to a faint whistle. It wasn’t perfect, but it would hold.
Sawyer stepped back, wiping sweat and frost from his brow. “That’ll do for tonight,” he said. “We’ll reinforce it better in the morning.”
“Fire,” Jay reminded him, already kneeling at the hearth. He brushed away the old ash, added kindling, and struck a match. The small flame flickered uncertainly before catching.