If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the Publisher and neither the Author nor the Publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

All Kensington titles, imprints, and distributed lines are available at special quantity discounts for bulk purchases for sales promotion, premiums, fund-raising, educational, or institutional use.

Special book excerpts or customized printings can also be created to fit specific needs. For details, write or phone the office of the Kensington Sales Manager: Attn.: Sales Department. Kensington Publishing Corp., 119 West 40th Street, New York, NY 10018. Phone: 1-800-221-2647.

Zebra and the Z logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

First Kensington Books Hardcover Printing: November 2020
First Zebra Books Mass-Market Paperback Printing: August 2021

ISBN-13: 978-1-4201-4905-0
ISBN-10: 1-4201-4905-9

ISBN-13: 978-1-4201-4906-7 (eBook)
ISBN-10: 1-4201-4906-7 (eBook)

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Printed in the United States of America

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 1

The Isolated Cabin
Cascade Mountains
Washington State
December 10

A live!

I’m still alive!

I blink. Disbelieving. Stare up at the ceiling that seems to dance and spin above me.

My body trembles on the floor.

Twitching.

Flailing.

Sputtering.

But I wasn’t killed.

At least not yet.

The twin burn marks on my neck are painful. They remind me that I could well be dead, that if the nose of a pistol had been pressed to my skin, rather than the cold metal tips of a stun gun, I’d be lying in a pool of my own blood, dead to the world.

It’s only a matter of time, my mind warns.

I try to focus, blinking as I moan and twitch uncontrollably, feeling the hardwood of the tiny house against the back of my head. The vaulted ceiling seems higher than usual as it stretches over a small living area. It reels as my eyes try to focus, but they still jiggle in their sockets, my vision fragmented.

I stare at the built-in couch with its vibrant throw pillows, then spy the ladder leading to the loft, but everything in my vision pitches and weaves, refuses to stay steady. I try to focus on one item: the door leading outside, my only chance of escape, but it’s closed down and appears to shift and sway.

God help me.

For just a second, I close my eyes, try to stop the shaking, but I fail to gain control of my body again.

Click, click, click.

Footsteps! The floorboards vibrate. Boot heels striking the hardwood remind me I’m not alone.

With effort, I twist my trembling neck and roll my head to one side to see my captor slipping something into the small refrigerator.