Chapter 59: The Ice in His Veins
The SUVs never came. The modern world felt a million miles away. Here, on the mountain, there was only snow, stone, and the pack.
We were rebuilding the lodge by hand. It was slow, grueling work, but it was the only way to heal the scars on the land.
Victor was a machine.
He stood in the center of the ruins, shirtless in the biting wind. His skin was pale, unmarked by the sweat that coated the other men. He lifted a massive stone pillar that had supported the west wing—a slab of granite that weighed as much as a small car—and set it into place with a dull thud.
The pack watched him with wide, fearful eyes.
"He hasn't slept," Jax whispered to me. We were standing by the fire pit, where Mara was cooking stew for the workers. "It’s been four days, Elena.
