Could it be one of the SEALs checking out the cabin or seeking shelter? Would a SEAL have hiked this far, or was this out of bounds for the training? Of course, if they knew it wasn’t a training anymore, nothing was out of bounds.

Her gut said this wasn’t an ally, this was someone searching for her and Xavier. The SEALs in these woods didn’t even know she was here, and weren’t they supposed to be trying to breach the lodge?

She was going to vomit. Or faint. Maybe both.

She couldn’t make a noise. If whoever was outside that door knew she was in here alone, armed only with a paint gun, they’d hack through the shutters and break a window. Entering the cabin would be easy.

They’d opened Jeb’s throat with an axe.

She took a silent step backward and grabbed her coat from where she’d draped it over the cold woodstove and donned it, then she snatched her backpack from the floor. She’d exit through the door to the deck that overlooked the lake.

A thunk sounded from the deck, then that door’s knob rattled at the same time the back door shook.

Icy terror slid down her spine.

There were two men, blocking both exits.

Tears spilled down her cheeks as she faced fear unlike anything she’d ever experienced. She could—probably would—die here. Tonight. By axe, knife, or gun.

Axe…

She turned to the woodbox next to the woodstove. The box was built into the wall of the log structure, so one could split wood outside, toss it in the box, and then from inside the cabin, grab logs to fill the woodstove.

There could be a hatchet in the box along with other tools, another weapon to add to her arsenal. But even more important, inside the cabin, the box looked small—not large enough for a person, but she might fit, and, even better, she might be able to slip out of the cabin via the box.

She gingerly lifted the lid, wincing when the hinges squeaked, but the storm had probably covered the sound. The front of the box was a third-full of wood, leaving a tight space for her to slip through.

A soft pop came from the direction of the back door. Were they shooting the dead bolt? Xavier had said their guns might have suppressors.

She scrambled into the box, wiggling backward into the narrow space, having no idea if she’d fit or if wood filled the back of the box and she was trapping herself. She’d just managed to fold herself into a ball and close the lid when she heard a door slam against the wall. If the outside hatch was locked, she was cornered, but her only choice was to hide or flee, and this box had the potential for both.