Chapter 3 — Whispers in the Blizzard
Third Person
The blizzard descended with a ferocity that swallowed the world outside Summit Ridge Lodge in a blinding, howling chaos. Snow battered the tall windows in uneven bursts, the sound mimicking claws scraping glass. The storm’s voice surged through the lodge’s wooden beams, a primal resonance that felt too alive, too purposeful, to be mere weather.
Inside the lodge, warmth from the fire fought a losing battle against the creeping chill that seemed to slither in from the storm. Harper Ellison stood near the stone hearth, her tailored slacks brushing the polished timber floor as she paced. The steady rhythm of her steps faltered, her sharp movements betraying an unease she refused to acknowledge fully. She was trying to rationalize this moment, as she always did, but logic felt like a flimsy shield against the storm’s relentless presence.
Across the room, Caleb Thorne leaned against the far wall, his muscular frame partially veiled by shadows. He was unnervingly still, yet his posture carried a quiet intensity, like a predator assessing its surroundings. His amber eyes tracked her movements, unreadable but alert, his silence adding to the tension that crackled in the air.
The only sounds were the crackle of the fire and the storm’s guttural roars. Harper finally broke the silence, her voice laced with dry sarcasm that barely masked her unease.
“Well, this wasn’t exactly in the itinerary,” she said, gesturing toward the window.
Caleb’s lips twitched, a flicker of amusement breaking his stoic expression. “Blizzards are notoriously bad at keeping schedules,” he replied.
Harper stopped mid-step, pivoting to face him. Her gray eyes narrowed, sharp as steel. “You don’t seem particularly worried.”
“I’ve seen worse,” he said simply, his gaze steady, piercing. It wasn’t just a look—it was a study, as though he were peeling back the layers of her carefully constructed exterior. Harper hated how exposed it made her feel.
She crossed her arms tighter, her skepticism hardening. “So, what? This is just another day for you? Blizzards, secluded lodges, cryptic invitations—very unconventional business tactics.”
Caleb tilted his head slightly, his expression revealing nothing. “You think this is just a storm?”
The weight of his question hung in the air, unsettling in its ambiguity. Harper frowned. “What are you implying?”
Before he could answer, the lights flickered. For a moment, the room plunged into darkness, shadows clawing at the walls as the firelight danced erratically. When the power returned, Harper exhaled sharply, her hand brushing the silver pendant at her neck. The metal was unusually warm, almost alive against her skin.
“You should stay by the fire,” Caleb said, his voice low and steady. “It’s going to get colder before it gets better.”
“Thanks for the weather update,” she snapped, her frustration bubbling over. “Maybe you could try being a little more forthcoming, Mr. Thorne. What the hell am I actually doing here?”
Caleb’s gaze didn’t waver. “You’re here because you chose to be.”
Harper opened her mouth to retort, but a distant sound froze the words on her tongue. It was faint, almost drowned out by the storm—a low, mournful howl. It wasn’t entirely animal, nor entirely human. A shiver ran down her spine.
“What was that?” she asked, her voice quieter now, tinged with unease.
Caleb’s posture stiffened, his amber eyes narrowing as he tilted his head slightly, listening. “Nothing.”
“That wasn’t nothing,” Harper countered, stepping closer to the window. Outside, the snow swirled in a dizzying vortex, obscuring the wilderness in relentless motion. “It sounded like... an animal?”
“Wolves,” Caleb said after a pause, the single word carrying an unspoken weight.
Harper turned to him, her skepticism sharpening. “Wolves? In this storm?”
“They’re resilient creatures,” he replied, his tone deliberately neutral.
Her gaze lingered on him, searching for a crack in his composure. There was something he wasn’t saying—something just beyond her reach. The air between them felt charged, like static before a lightning strike.
The howl came again, closer now, more distinct. Harper’s pulse quickened, her instincts screaming that she was missing a crucial piece of the puzzle. “Should we be worried?”
“No,” Caleb said firmly. Too firmly.
Her gut whispered otherwise. Before she could press him, a loud thud echoed from deeper within the lodge. Harper flinched, her breath catching as her eyes darted toward the sound.
“What the hell was that?” she demanded, her voice sharper now.
Without a word, Caleb pushed off the wall, his movements fluid and deliberate. “Stay here.”
“Like hell I’m staying here,” Harper shot back, already following him as he strode toward the hallway.
He stopped abruptly, turning to face her. His amber eyes gleamed with an intensity that made her heart skip. “I said, stay here.”
Harper bristled, her chin lifting in defiance. “I don’t take orders from you, Thorne.”
The tension between them crackled, a live wire threatening to spark. For a moment, she thought he might physically block her path, but then he sighed, running a hand through his dark hair.
“Fine,” he said grudgingly. “But stay close. And quiet.”
The hallway stretched ahead of them, dimly lit and unnervingly silent except for the creak of the lodge settling around them. The storm’s howls seemed to seep through the walls, an unwelcome presence that refused to be ignored. Caleb moved with a predator’s grace, his every step measured, his body taut with readiness.
The thud came again, louder this time, followed by a scraping noise that set Harper’s teeth on edge. She glanced at Caleb, noting the way his jaw tightened, his hand flexing slightly as though bracing for a fight.
When they reached a heavy wooden door at the end of the hall, Caleb reached for the handle. Harper watched as his fingers hesitated for a fraction of a second, a brief but telling moment. Then he pushed the door open, the hinges groaning in protest.
The room beyond was empty—almost. A few chairs lay overturned, and shards of a shattered vase glittered on the floor. Snow swirled in through a broken window, the wind feral as it clawed its way inside.
“Wind,” Caleb said, his voice low. “Must’ve knocked something loose.”
Harper wasn’t convinced. The scene felt wrong. The air was too cold, the shadows too deep. She stepped closer to the broken window, her pendant glowing faintly as she approached.
“What’s with your necklace?” Caleb asked, his tone sharper now.
Harper glanced down, startled by the soft blue light emanating from the silver pendant. She clutched it instinctively, the warmth of the metal a strange counterpoint to the icy air. “I—I don’t know. It’s never done this before.”
Caleb’s jaw tightened, his gaze darkening. “We need to get back to the main room. Now.”
“Why? What’s going on?”
“Move,” he snapped, his voice carrying an edge of urgency that sent a chill through her.
They hurried back down the hallway, the storm outside rising to a fever pitch. Harper’s mind raced, her logical instincts battling the unease clawing at her resolve. This wasn’t a coincidence. It couldn’t be. Everything about this night felt like a warning she couldn’t yet decipher.
When they reached the main room, the fire had dimmed, its light flickering weakly against the encroaching darkness. Caleb moved to the windows, his eyes scanning the storm with a feral intensity that made Harper’s breath catch.
She stood by the hearth, her fingers brushing the glowing pendant at her neck. The sense of vulnerability she felt was unfamiliar, unsettling. She hated it.
“What aren’t you telling me, Caleb?” she asked, her voice a mix of frustration and fear.
He didn’t answer immediately. When he finally turned to face her, his expression was shadowed, his amber eyes holding a tension she couldn’t quite name. It was equal parts dangerous and protective, like a storm barely held in check.
“You’re not safe here,” he said quietly.
The words hung in the air, heavy with implications Harper wasn’t ready to face.
Before she could respond, the howl came again, so close it seemed to reverberate inside the lodge itself.
And then, the lights went out.
