Page 76 of Adam's Rising

When he did, she would make them all pay.

The bad guys wore masks, so she couldn’t identify them, but she would remember… Every voice. Every scent.

Especially Lala’s.

20

The snow deepened as the horses pressed deeper into Denali, following the only tracks that didn’t look like hikers. The temperature dropped sharply, and the pine shadows stretched longer as the day wore on.

Adam checked the sun’s angle and glanced at the map again.

“We’re running out of daylight,” Rusty said, slowing his gelding beside him. “We’ve been riding way too long. The horses need rest. Predators…”

“Just one more set of cabins,” Adam pleaded. “If she’s not there…”

If Claire wasn’t there, he’d let Rusty and Peter rest. He wouldn’t rest until he checked every dry cabin or lean-to in Denali.

His eyes scanned the distant ridges and tree lines. He wasn’t just following the maps Clara Mae had given him of known cabins within Denali; he was following his instincts, the tracking sense his father had drilled in him every time they hiked or hunted.

Tire tracks that didn’t belong. A scent on the wind that wasn’t earth or animal. Bolt’s ears twitching when they passed certain areas. Signs only a Midnight Son would know.

They reached a clearing ringed with wind-beaten spruce, and two cabins barely visible through the snow-laced branches.

Adam raised a hand, signaling a halt.

Peter pulled alongside him. “You think she’s in there?”

Adam dismounted silently.

He crept forward, each footstep deliberate. The cabins were long-abandoned — one door hung from its hinges, windows were broken.

But the other door was closed — unlike his family cabin.

In the snow, faint boot prints.

Fresh.

Adam motioned for Rusty and Peter to flank him.

He took the lead, easing up to the cabin’s edge.

Adam held his gun, ready.

He kicked the door open.

Darkness. A quiet whimper.

He shined his flashlight, saw another door.

Praying, he kicked in the next door.

Someone scrambled back.

He flashed his light, and her tied hands flew up.

“Claire.” He expelled the breath he’d been holding.

“Adam?”

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