PART 2: The Men Who Don’t Exist
I half-carried Deputy Pierce through the snow while keeping the infant pressed to my chest. Atlas circled us, scanning tree lines, nose catching scents I couldn’t.
Inside my cabin, I built the fire higher than I ever had. I wrapped the baby in warm towels, careful not to shock her system with sudden heat. Her breaths steadied incrementally, fragile but present. Pierce lay on my couch, shivering violently as circulation tried to return to numb limbs.
He grabbed my sleeve again.
“If they find me alive… they’ll come back,” he whispered.
“For who?”
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