Chapter 77
“Winter p>
The wind shrieked in her ears like a vengeful ghost.
She tumbled over the edge of the cliff, her body plunging downward. In that split second before death, she thought she heard someone call her name. The sound cut through her like a blade.
Then a cold hand clamped onto hers, stopping her fall.
Her body jerked to a halt. Her heart seemed to stop with it. Through blurred, bloodshot eyes, she looked into the gray dusk and saw a man lunging down the cliff face, one hand gripping a vine rooted in the
rock.
up
“Hold on to me p>
She could almost hear her own heartbeat tearing through her chest.
Chris.
A memory flashed through her mind. She was seven years old, locked in a school restroom, smoke filling the air. Chris had rushed in through the haze and pulled her away from death. He had told everyone she belonged to the Xander family and that no one was allowed to bully her.
But he had forgotten those words.
In the end, no one had hurt her more than he had.
The vine suddenly dropped lower.
It snagged against a protruding rock, barely holding.
Chris’s knuckles turned white as he gripped her wrist. His dark eyes were filled with something she couldn’t decipher.
“Hold on to me. Do you hear me p>
The vines along the cliff had dried after autumn. Wind and snow had stripped them brittle. They couldn’t possibly bear the weight of two people.
Winter’s eyes reddened.
The man had said one thing that was true.
If she died, would that not make things easier for him and Skyla?
“Chris, why? Why are you doing this?” she wondered.
Her free hand hung at her side. She didn’t reach for him.
“Winter!” His voice tore through the wind. The veins in his hand bulged as he tightened his grip.
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The vine strained. He braced a foot against the cliff wall and began pulling her up inch by inch, ignoring the defiance in her eyes.
Then the vine slipped again.
At the edge of the cliff, Gavin, injured but refusing to stay back, lunged forward. One hand locked onto the rocky ledge while the other reached for Chris’s arm, the one wrapped around the vine.
“Mr. Xander p>
In that split second, there was only one choice.
Only Chris could be saved.
Below them, Winter’s body was swallowed by the rising mist and the deepening dark of the valley.
“Chris, I don’t want to owe you, ” she whispered.
“Winter!” His voice forced its way into her ears over the wind.
“You don’t get to decide that p>
The vine snapped.
With a strength that defied the limits of the human body, Chris pulled Winter into his chest, shielding her with his own frame as they tumbled. They hit the jagged rocks and the skeletal branches of dead trees, the icy wind tearing at them as they fell.
Winter’s head was pressed firmly against his chest by his hand. She couldn’t see the world rushing past, only the frantic, thunderous rhythm of his heart drumming against her ear.
Snow had fallen a few days earlier. In the valley below, thick layers still remained where the sun never
reached.
Chris wrapped his arms around her as they crashed into the snow.
Several loose rocks crashed into the snowbank below.
Winter’s mind went blank for a moment. When she finally came to, she struggled to pry his arm away from her waist.
But the next second, his grip tightened even more, as if he were trying to fuse her into his body.
She winced as her injured forehead hit his chest.
A rustling sound came from the snow as he rolled over and pushed himself up.
His hands moved to her shoulders first. Then his coat, still warm from his body, was draped over her.
She froze.
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In the darkness, she felt his hands moving over her.
He didn’t say a word. Not even a breath of explanation.
He simply ran his hands over her from head to toe.
“What are you doing p>
She suddenly grabbed the hand that had moved toward her chest. She knew Chris wasn’t the type to take advantage of her in a situation like this. But the way he searched her without saying anything made her uneasy.
The hand she was pinning down twitched, but he didn’t pull away. His palm rested against her waist,
unmoving.
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Florence
A passionate storyteller who brings emotions to life through her words. When she’s not writing, she finds peace nurturing her garden.