I stare at her. It’s an incredible recovery after such a life-altering injury, but I remember her focus and commitment as a half-pipe pro. If anyone could do it, she could.

“So what now?” Brent asks flatly from the corner of the room.

Odette studies our faces, as though she’s wondering the same thing. Finally she seems to reach a decision. And from the way her lips press together, it’s one she finds distasteful. She gestures to the door. “Out.”

None of us move. She aims the rifle at my knee. My good knee. And just the thought of losing it is enough to make me scramble up. If I lose it, I’m completely stuck here.

Curtis sits unresponsive, almost catatonic. Brent drapes his arm around him and hauls him upright. Odette backs out into the corridor, edging away farther as we file out. She drags one foot slightly, I notice—her left one—the only sign so far of her injury.

She points toward the main entrance. “Walk.”

I glance at Curtis and Brent. Should we try to tackle her? But it only takes one well-placed bullet, and how many shots could she get off in the time it would take us to reach her? As a biathlete, she must train to keep calm under pressure. The risk is too great.

Brent leads.

“Where’s she taking us?” I whisper.

“No talking!” Odette snaps.

Through the glass panel in the door, everything is white. I try to catch Curtis’s eye, but he’s lost to the world, still processing what he did to Saskia, and I don’t want to get him shot for my efforts. Anyway, we have a better chance of escaping from her out there than trapped in here, surely.

“Jackets off,” Odette says.

It’s a smart move. The colder we are, the more likely we are to be compliant. I slide my gloved hands out of my jacket sleeves and let it fall to the floor, hoping she doesn’t tell me to take my goggles and gloves off, too.

Brent goes to pick up his snowboard boots.

“No,” Odette says. “Out.”

I swear inwardly—he’s wearing his holey DCs. He pushes the door and a flurry of flakes blows in. I lower my goggles and step out after him. It’s snowing heavily now. The wind is swirling the flakes around; the cloud has descended and it’s a proper whiteout. I can’t even see the cliffs. The rope barrier, half hidden by snowdrifts in places, is the only way you know they’re there.

This could work in our favor. If she can’t see us, she can’t shoot us.