Melvin stepped in close, towering over me, face twisted with disgust.

"Why is everyone else fine, but YOU'RE the one with frostbite? You just HAD to show off—dressing like that, pushing ahead. Now something goes wrong and you're blaming us?"

I wanted to argue—I was wearing top-tier gear—but the cold had sucked the strength right out of me.

My body kept crashing. The world spun, vision going fuzzy.

If I hadn't called Hugh when I did, I would've died up here—quiet and frozen.

I thought Melvin would tell the team to reinforce the tent and wait it out.

Instead, he barked, "Pack up. We're heading down while the storm's letting up. No way we're letting the rescue team laugh at us."

I forced myself upright, swaying. "You're kidding. Now?!"

That cold smirk slid in. "I'm the leader. My call. Not letting one selfish hiker wreck my career."

His eyes were locked—wild. No getting through to him.

"If you wanna rush down, fine. But I've got frostbite. I CAN'T move. I'm waiting for my brother."

Before he could speak, Sally shrieked, "No!"

She shot daggers at me, then spun to the others. "If we leave her, she'll blab about the sleeping bag. If we're clearing this, we HAVE to drag her with us. And if she talks? We say she's hallucinating from altitude sickness."

***

The rest of the team, all hyped up on Melvin and Sally's fake "team spirit," nodded like sheep.

I stared at Melvin's frozen expression, heart sinking. Still, I had to say it. "Melvin, fourth time I've saved your butt out here.

"Remember Raventon? You tried some dumb shortcut, slipped off a slope. I dragged you back from a mudslide, patched you up, sat with you till help came. You cried, held my hand like I was your hero. Swore you'd never turn on me.

"I know I'm nothing to you now... but please—after everything—just let me live."

For a second, guilt flickered in Melvin's eyes. He almost looked human.

Then Sally pinched his arm and hissed, "Don't go soft. If we leave her and anything happens, we're toast. One word from her and your promotion's toast too."

Whatever was left of his conscience? Gone. He stared me down, ice-cold.

"Quit guilt-tripping me. People move on. You're the only one who knows the way down. If you don't lead, we're screwed in this blizzard."

Sally jumped in. "Exactly. Don't even think about playing dead."

Watching their pathetic little performance, I knew appeals to the past were pointless. Time to throw my last card.

"Don't push me. Hugh Powell—captain of the Stormfang Rescue—is my brother. Lay a finger on me, and he'll bury you."

Sally cackled. "Oh please. Making up some brother to get out of walking? You're seriously a joke."

The others piled on.

"Yeah, sure. Captain Powell's your brother? Please. No way a guy like that's got a spoiled little sister."

Then Melvin slapped me—loud and sharp. The crack echoed through the tent.

"You're a disgrace," he snapped. "Lying like that—don't you feel pathetic? Say one more word, and I'll toss you into the snow myself."

He yanked my arm like he was about to drag me outside.

I knew they weren't backing down—they wanted me to lead. Fine. I stopped trying to explain and made one last ask.

"I'll go. But Sally needs to give back MY sleeping bag. I've got frostbite—I can't even move right—"

"Shut up," Melvin snapped. "You've got frostbite, which means you're dead weight. Why waste the best gear on you? Sally's new to this—she needs it more."

The way he said it, like it made perfect sense, hit colder than the wind.

I never thought the guy who once swore he'd protect me would trade my life for hers without blinking.

Ever since Sally parachuted into their department, Melvin changed. It was nonstop—"Sally this, Sally that."

I thought he was just being nice to the new hire. I mean, after everything we'd been through—after getting engaged—there's no way he'd toss all that for some girl faking the whole helpless-and-sweet act.

Yeah. I was stupid.

When I didn't move, Melvin stormed over and yanked me up.

"Don't think I won't lay hands on you. Get up and lead."

***

Left with no choice, I grabbed a trekking pole and forced my numb body to stand.

Sally strolled over, all fake concern. "Let me help you, Peyton."

Before I could shut her down, her hand clamped straight onto my injured ankle—hard.

The pain shot through me. My eyes burned with tears.

I shoved her off. "Get off me!"

She let out a dramatic yelp and dropped into the snow, eyes going red.

Melvin didn't even blink—he shoved me hard, nearly knocking me over. "What's wrong with you? She was helping! Why'd you push her?"

Sally jumped in, all sweet and sly. "Don't blame Peyton, Melvin. She's probably just upset I used her sleeping bag. I don't mind the drama. As long as she gets us down safe, that's what matters."

That only fired Melvin up more. He stormed over and slapped me—twice. Hard.

"Don't think you can push Sally around just because she's nice. Try laying a hand on her again and see what happens."

My ears rang. My cheek burned, already swelling.

But even that didn't hurt as much as the crack inside me.

I gave up trying to explain. Didn't even want to anymore.

"I can walk. I don't need her help."

Sally gave me that fake-innocent look. "It's not that you don't need help—you're just waiting to sneak off, aren't you?"

Melvin shot me a glare. "Don't try anything, Peyton. Slow us down, and you'll answer to me."

Then he turned to one of the guys. "Wayne, watch her. If she pulls anything, tie her up. With this blizzard, if something happens, we can just blame it all on the weather."

That warning was for me—and I knew he meant it.

His crew? Totally loyal. Even if he took me out, they'd help cover it up.

I didn't fight it. Just prayed Hugh's team would get here in time.

Wayne boxed me in, forcing me to limp forward, my ankle swollen like a fist.

We trudged through the blizzard—no clue how long. My lungs burned, vision blurred, heart pounding like crazy.

Up ahead, Melvin's voice cut through the wind. "Careful. Crevasse."

Didn't even get the sentence out before Sally shoved me. Hard.

I stumbled straight into danger. Ice cracked under my boots.

One wrong move and I was gone.

Instinct kicked in. I slammed my trekking pole into the wall, stopping just at the edge.

But the force set off a cornice. Snow crumbled.

The ledge gave out—and I went with it, sliding fast.

Thank God it wasn't big enough to trigger a full avalanche.

While the others freaked out, I used the chaos to slide down to a wind-sheltered dip and ducked behind a rock.

Whipped out the sat phone, shot out my coordinates, and prayed someone'd find me before I turned into an ice cube.

The noise above faded fast. Guess they figured I didn't make it and kept moving.

I stayed crouched, barely breathing.

The cold wasn't the only thing trying to kill me—my "teammates" wanted me gone too.

I squinted through the whiteout, heart pounding—praying it was Hugh, dreading it was Melvin.

Then—footsteps.

Crunch. Crunch.

***

A tall figure cut through the snow, flashing that creepy grin.

My stomach dropped.

Melvin. Of course. The devil himself.

I shrank behind the rock, praying he hadn't spotted me.

"Don't bother hiding, Peyton. I saw you."

I looked up—he was already looming over me.

I forced myself to stay sharp. "Why are you back?"

"To rescue you, of course, my dear fiancée." That twisted smile.

"Spare me. I'll be lucky if you don't finish me off."

"Now, now. Don't be so cruel. I even brought hot water." He twisted a thermos open and shoved it toward my mouth.

I tried pushing him away, but the cold had wrecked me.

He grabbed my chin, forcing the boiling water down my throat. My tongue went numb on contact.

Coughing, choking, I barely had time to react before he clamped onto my ankle and twisted hard.

"Ah—!"

Pain ripped through me like my bones were splintering.

I screamed and kicked him square in the gut with everything I had left.

He crashed into the snow.

That one kick wiped me out.