Page 25 of Forced Alpha Bride
What will I do? Take her frozen body back to her family, or just run? I wouldn’t want to leave my brothers, but if all I bring back is the dead body of Winnie Ramses, they’ll execute us all.
I don’t know Galen or his friend Kit, but I’ve heard of them, and I wouldn’t want to face either of them in a fight. I always knew I needed the support of other packs in the Range to hold my position, but for the first time, I’m realizing how complicated that could really be.
Worry about surviving first, then consider all the other creative ways you could die.
The deeper we get into the trees, the less snow falls through the canopy. Soon, I can run across the dirt without wading through snow drifts, and I’m covering a lot of ground.
But am I going in the right direction?
I stop again, wondering if it might be better to wait here and try to warm Winnie up. It’s too damp and cold to start a fire, even if I could get a spark, but I can’t keep running through the forest indefinitely.
I’m almost exhausted now—and hungry. I can probably go on with a short rest, but she can’t.
Then, through the sounds of the raging storm above, I detect a faint, trickling gurgle, and it isn’t far away. Keeping my head tilted towards the sound, I follow it with slow, careful steps until I come to the edge of a tiny creek.
This has to be the creek in the map!
I know I’m pinning my hopes on extremely long odds, but I follow the creek, keeping it on my right as I jog further into the woods. As the stream curves around a little bend, I see a huge gray rock on the slope on the other side with a streak of white quartz in it.
That’s the rock! It has to be!
When I finally see the dark shadow of the cabin ahead, I almost collapse with relief. I’ve dealt with exposure and pain my whole life, but this has definitely taken me to the limit.
I stumble up the steps and shove my shoulder into the door. For a moment, the lock holds. Then the wood splinters and the door smashes open, almost making me drop Winnie.
I lay her down in front of the fireplace and grab every blanket I can find, wrapping them around her. The dead weight of her limbs and lack of response scare me, but I focus on what I need to do to keep her warm and refuse to think further ahead.
She’s still alive. That’s all that matters. Get a fire going, then worry about everything else.
The fireplace has plenty of small wood and logs stacked next to it, and it’s easy to get a fire started. Within a few minutes, the small cabin is warm and cozy. My hands and feet start to tingle so badly that I collapse on the floor beside Winnie.
Well, shit. I actually forgot about myself for a minute there.
I rub my toes, stretching my legs out to help with circulation. While my own strength slowly returns, I keep my eyes on Winnie’s face, watching color come back into her cheeks as her breathing becomes deep and even.
As relief begins to trickle through me, I realize how much time has passed. Suddenly, I’m aware of time working against me again. And this time, it’s not the race for Winnie’s life.
Okay, tough guy. You saved her. Now you’ve got to get her back to town before the next sunset, or it’s all been for nothing.
I look down at her, struggling with my emotions. If I want to be absolutely sure I’ll make the deadline, we should leave right now. I also know that I just can’t do it.
I didn’t work this hard to save her just to take her back out there to die.
Sighing, I get up slowly and hobble into the kitchen. There’s plenty of tea, coffee, and soup—and to my surprise, a full bottle of aged, black-label brandy.
Cheers to the old man who built this place. You’ve got taste!
I twist off the top and take a sip, heading back to the fire. Winnie is still asleep, and I don’t want to wake her. I know I’ll have to take a closer look at her soon, to see how badly she’s hurt, but for now, she should rest.
The flickering light, the warmth of the fire, and the sweet brandy lull me into a languid state, and I prop my back against the couch so I can relax. All my troubles melt away, and the only thing that’s real to me is being here with her.
Imagine if there was no pack bullshit, like my past hadn’t even happened. That it was just us, and we lived here together… happy and free…
My mind slips away into idyllic, dreamlike scenes. I see Winnie baking a pie while I bring in firewood, and the two of us drawing water from the creek, and laying down together by the fire.
You’re losing it, Damon. Is this reality or the next big Disney script?
I groan softly, taking another huge gulp of brandy. It clears my thoughts a little, but I can’t stop staring at Winnie and having little fantasies of what our life together could look like.
