Rescued by the Captain (Winter Rescue)

11. Donte

11

DONTE

My eyes are glued to Bria’s back as she runs away. Soon, the outline of her figure blends with the other shadows in the night. I can no longer see her, and I’m abandoned in the cold.

No, I told her to leave. Demanded. Pushed.

And now I am alone.

Have I abandoned Bria, too?

I clutch my stomach, where the wound lies, and glance down.

It’s good she’s gone. If she keeps running, maybe she can find a break in the woods, a reprieve for shelter. Like the place Colt was talking about.

Blood oozes through my shirt. I grip the hem and wring it as an attempt to air out the streaming liquid and stop the flow, but even the frigid weather can’t freeze a gaping wound shut.

My head starts to spin and guilt wracks me. I might just bleed to death here. Never mind standing my ground. I can only hope to serve of some use so that Bria can widen the start between her and the pursuers. She needs to survive and tell her story.

A twig snaps. Looks like fate is grinding into motion. They reached me already. Fuck. That was quicker than I thought it would be. I knew what was coming, and yet, my palms grow clammier by the second.

Bria and I may never see each other again. A twinge of happiness seeps into me as I think that she may depart this ordeal unscathed. At least, if I’m the only one who’s taken out, I’ll have done my job.

I want the woman who embraced me tonight to live her life to the fullest. I want her to beam like the countless stars that sparkle above us and flash that sparkly grin that never failed to make my chest flutter.

Ha, what is wrong with me? Who would’ve thought I’d go all out sappy and reflective. I guess that goes to show the power of meeting someone. After these self-destructive years, I can finally see myself with another woman.

This woman.

She’s mine and I’ll make sure that she’s safe.

These assholes are going down.

Bria

I lose count of how many times I nearly toppled into the snow, casting glances over my shoulder. It’s like every sound, every sight, and every smell is an enemy.

My head is loud with one thought, one face only. Donte. I want to know that he’s still alive, that he’ll make it to me.

It takes everything in me to not turn back. To end my constant hesitating. As much as I desire to be snug in his arms like we once were, my desire is too selfish to fulfill right now.

He told me to go because he knows that it’s the only way. I must keep my promise to him, no matter what. Follow the smoke, is a command that repeats in my head over and over.

Perhaps, it’s the last words I’ll be able to clutch dear from Donte.

A small home crops up in the distance. At first, I bat my eyelashes thinking that I’m imagining a silhouette in the dark. I’m used to seeing nothing but trees, the ashy plume, and glowing mounds of snow.

But there are other people in the woods. People who aren’t, I pray, out to slaughter me. I sprint up the porch, bang my fist on the door as I wipe the tears from my face. I realize they’ve long dried up. Before I was even ready to let go of the heartbreak, its remnants have been erased for me by the unforgiving elements.

A slit forms in the entrance. I see a lady peek through the door, her eyes blue like the morning sky.

I’m about to introduce myself when she tugs me in. The home is a near replica of the cabin— very antiquated with its paisley wallpaper and upholstered furniture, but more spacious. Not to mention, the floor doesn’t threaten to collapse under my feet while taking a step.

The woman pats the snow off my coat, her eyes frantic. “You’re Bria, aren’t you?” she asks. There’s a flicker of recognition in her eyes, and I’m surprised she appears to know me already.

“Yes, I’m here to—” I’m cut off by the barks of a large dog. A man with a scowl walks into the room, a Rottweiler tagging along at his side. The dog playfully wags his tongue at me, but glares at the door.

The woman’s expression turns serious. “My name is Izzy Winchester. That’s my husband, Redd.” She points over at the man.

Relief washes over me. If these people are teaming with us to help, then both Donte and I have better fighting chances. Maybe I can even ask if we can trek back in case he needs reinforcements.

Bang!

Everyone jolts at the sound of gunfire.

“Go low, stay away from the windows!” Mr. Winchester shouts, beckoning for us to be smart and limit visibility.

I crouch on instinct, following Izzy into the living room.

She flits a glance at me. “We’ve got to batten down the hatches. My husband is doing the front door, we’ll do the back.” When we fasten the latch over the back door and push furniture against it, she adds, “And, if our defenses give in… we’ll be ready for a fight. If we must.”

I place a palm on my forehead, almost to steady myself and make sure this is real. Chaos is raging at breakneck speed, and I feel that I can’t get a breath of air before a new threat is launched our way.

Izzy sits me on the couch. She fills me in on her past, and suddenly, the gaps in my memory begin to crystalize.

“I remember Violet Briggs… and the Briggs and Winchester feud,” I recount aloud.

Izzy smiles warmly. “Well, things change, dear. Violet married Luke Winchester.”

My eyebrows raise. “No way!”

Chuckling, Izzy waves my fascination away. “But enough about us. How about you?”

I grip the wrinkles in my pants. Creases that are spotted with Donte’s blood. “Well, obviously, things are a little rough right now.”

Izzy laughs. “Yes, I got that. But why?”

“I woke up in the middle of the woods, not knowing a single thing about what landed me there or who I was. I was lucky to be found by one of the kindest men I’ve ever met, but even now I know so little about who’s pursuing me. The pieces are that I was let go from my job because they suspected I was embezzling, and I compiled proof that was going to absolve me of blame, I remember that. But the rest is blurry to me…”

Izzy stares at me, and it’s as if laying out the events to her triggers a spark in my memory. “That sure is a unique necklace.” Her fingers float over the owl that I forgot was even there.

I lift it up and the cracks start to fill in. “It’s a thumb drive!” I spring up from the couch. “It’s the thumb drive with all the evidence! They didn’t get it, and that’s why they’re still coming after me!”

My heart swells.

All this time, I’ve had a USB drive that’d exonerate me and give evidence to what management really did.