Brecken runs back a little way and then flattens himself against a tree. He’s only fifteen feet away from the road, his face tight and eyes closed. I’m farther up the hill, surely hidden by the dead bushes and clustered spindly evergreens. I curl my fingers inside my red gloves and hold my breath as I watch the truck take another hill.

He’s getting closer.

And closer.

He’s on the second-to-last hill, and my throat is tight and dry. I want to close my eyes. I want to curl up and hide like a little kid afraid of the dark, but I stare even as the snow stings my face and tears stream down both cheeks.

The headlights appear.

Oh, God, is he slowing down? Does he see us?

Brecken looks at me, his dark eyes wide and worried across the snowy drive. We didn’t hide the tracks beyond the entrance. There wasn’t time. The sound of the engine rumbles into my ears and my heart pounds, a rabbit in a box. Snow peppers my face with cold pinches as the truck rolls to the driveway and moves past.

My held breath comes out in a long heave, and Brecken sags, bending over with his hands on his knees like he might get sick. I know the feeling. Then he looks up at me, grinning, and I go still at the wolfish look of his features.

Maybe Brecken is a boy I should be careful with.

He knows how to smile at girls. And I’d bet he also knows exactly how attractive he is and exactly how he can use it. The ice running through my veins now has nothing to do with the cold.

Brecken pushes off of the tree and the squeal of brakes and sound of hissing snow comes from the road. My stomach clenches again, my throat going dry in an instant.

I search the road, where snow still sprays in great clouds. Two brake lights glare at me, red eyes in a sea of white. I wait for the reverse lights, for the inevitable return of panic, but they don’t come. The truck turns right, moving down another road. Chasing us down a path we didn’t take.

I lean against the nearest tree, weak with relief, my breath steaming in the cold.

The branches crisscross overhead, black jagged lines against a gray sky. It’s either later than I thought or more snow is coming.

Brecken crunches his way up the mountain, his cheeks flushed, and his dark hair tufted up in spikes.

“Close call,” he says, looking exhilarated. “We make a good team, Mira. If we stick together, we’ll be fine.”

“Maybe,” I say.

He winks. “Don’t worry. Destiny’s on our side.” His smile doesn’t fade when I don’t answer. He looks triumphant, breathing hard and pink-cheeked. “You ready to go?”

“Are you sure he’s gone?”