Page 4 of Finding Peace
Louder this time.
Come find me.
I sob, the sound tearing out of me as I fight the river, the cold, my own failing body.
But the cold is greedy.
It crawls up my ribs, into my chest, squeezing like a vise.
My fingers stop obeying.
The sounds blur.
The Coates brothers’ voices fade first.
Then the hooves.
The river rushes louder, filling everything, until it’s the only thing left.
The last thing I feel is the cold pressing deeper—and then even the sound of my own breath is…gone.
Chapter two
Lawson
Theworldnarrowstothe sound of my own blood as it courses through my body.
Snow tears at my face as Atlas eats up the ground beneath us, hooves racing through the deep snow, breath steaming hard and fast. Branches whip past, cracking against my shoulders, my jaw, but I don’t feel any of it. I don’t feel the cold or the burn in my lungs as I gasp for breath.
All I feel is the scream.
All I feel is the way the sound rips through my very being, destroying who I once was.
It echoes in my head even after it’s gone—sharp, desperate, cut off too fast.
“Abigail!” I roar, leaning lower over the saddle, reins slack in my fist, because Atlas doesn’t need them. She feels it too. Fear. Urgency. Desperation.
Lights slice through the trees ahead—wild, frantic. ATVs. Two of them. One sits dead in the snow near the riverbank, half buried. The other fishtails wildly farther back, its headlights jerking between the trees.
Lucy bursts out of the dark, barking so hard her whole body shakes as she runs past us toward the river.
River.
My stomach drops.
Because, even though this ranch was named after this place, Willow Creek isn’t a creek at all. It’s a deep river, constantly filled with cold runoff from the mountains, which means it never freezes. It spends every day cutting through the land, reminding it, and us, how unforgivable something as simple as water can be.
“Lawson!” Lincoln shouts somewhere behind me. “By the creek!”
I follow the glow of his flashlight, and I see her.
A shape tumbling down the embankment. Then a splash.
“No—no, no,no—”
I don’t stop Atlas. I just throw myself off, hitting the snow hard enough to jar my teeth. Snow fills my boots instantly as I sprint toward the river, lungs screaming, vision tunneling.
Then, a man breaks from the trees ahead of me, sprinting after her.
