That was when I heard the thud from the truck bed.
And then the shape flying over the tailgate.
Ranger, my dog, hit the snow beside me in a clumsy, desperate arc, skidding to a stop, scrambling back to his feet, barking once at the retreating truck, his thick tan fur already frosting over.
For a second, just a second, the brake lights flared brighter, and hope surged through me so violently it almost hurt, because I thought maybe, just maybe, seeing the dog jump ship would snap something human back into Caleb’s chest.
But the truck only accelerated.
The red taillights shrank, blurred by falling snow, until they disappeared entirely over the rise in the road, leaving behind a silence so heavy it felt like pressure in my skull.
I was alone.
Except I wasn’t.
Ranger pressed his body against my legs, whining softly, his warmth shockingly real in a world that already felt unreal, and when I dropped to my knees and buried my face in his neck, I understood something with a clarity that terrified me: Caleb hadn’t just abandoned me, he had calculated this, because in a storm like this, no one survives by accident.
Chapter Two: Following the One Who Knew Better Than I Did
