Chapter 3 - Makayla

The first thing I felt was warmth. A heavy, comforting weight pressed against my side, radiating heat that contrasted sharply with the last thing I remembered—the bone-deep cold of the storm, the blinding snow, the moment my tires lost control.

I wasn’t in my car anymore.

My eyelids were heavy, but I forced them open as consciousness clawed its way back. The ceiling was unfamiliar. There were wooden beams. There was a soft, flickering light. It was not my apartment, not a hospital. Not anywhere I recognized.

I inhaled, my chest aching with the movement. Firewood. Tea. Something faintly herbal, clean. Not the sterile scent of antiseptic. This wasn’t a medical facility.

Something shifted against me, and I turned my head, wincing at the sharp throb that flared at my temple.

Pockets.

His tiny, fluffy corgi-sized body was curled against me, his fur warm beneath my fingers as I instinctively reached for him. His breathing was soft but quick, his little chest rising and falling in short, uneven bursts.

He’d been scared. Memories hit me in fragments. The road. The storm. The icy road. The crash. Pockets had been there. He had whimpered, nudged at me, and tried to wake me up. And now we were here.

I swallowed against the dryness in my throat and tried to push myself up. My body protested immediately, a dull ache radiating from my ribs and along my arms. I wasn’t broken—at least, I didn’t think so—but my limbs were heavy, slow to respond.

Pockets let out a small huff, lifting his head as if to scold me for moving.

“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered, voice rough. “I know. Dumb idea.”

His nose bumped against my cheek, warm and damp, reassuring. He wasn’t hurt. That was what mattered.

I exhaled slowly, trying to gather my bearings. The bed was soft, the blanket thick, the sheets carrying the faintest hint of lavender. A chair sat in the corner of the dimly lit room, a folded towel and clothes stacked neatly on its seat. Someone had taken care of me.

And someone was still here.

Beyond the closed door, soft footsteps creaked across the wooden floor—slow, steady movements. Someone was walking through the cabin. Rescue? Or something else?

My muscles tensed. I didn’t like waking up vulnerable in unfamiliar places. But I hadn’t been in control when I crashed. I should count myself lucky that Pockets and I were somewhere warm and safe rather than frozen in my wrecked car.

Pockets shifted, ears twitching toward the door.

I braced myself, jaw tightening as I forced my body upright. My head swam briefly, and Pockets whined in protest, pressing closer.

Beyond the door, the footsteps paused. Whoever had saved me was right there. Saving me didn’t mean their intentions were good. If there was any takeaway from all that’s happened with Stacey, it’s that appearances are deceiving, and the only person I can trust without any doubt is Pockets. I can’t even truly trust myself since I’d let myself be duped by that bitch.

I sucked in a breath as the handle began to turn. The doorknob turned, slow and deliberate, and every muscle in my body went taut. Pockets tensed beside me, his ears perking up as the door eased open, spilling warm light into the dim room. I forced myself to stay still and stay alert. Assess first, react second.

A woman stepped inside, framed by the flickering glow of the fireplace beyond. Curly brown hair piled up, warm brown skin, high cheekbones, sharp eyes that flickered with something unreadable. She didn’t appear to be a threat. Or at least not immediately. That could change easily. She stopped short when she saw me awake, her gaze flicking to Pockets before settling back on me.

“You’re up.” Her voice was smooth, low, cautious.

I swallowed against the dryness in my throat, nodding slowly. “Where—?” My voice came out rough, sandpaper against my ears. I cleared it and tried again. “Where am I?”

She crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe, still watching me, still measuring.

“My cabin,” she said. “You crashed a few miles up the road. I pulled you out before the storm could bury you.”

Pulled me out. A stranger had dragged my unconscious body out of a wrecked car and into safety. I could count on one hand the number of people in this world I would count on pulling me out of a car wreck, and they were all my five favorite cousins. I only counted Daris, Elijah, Forrest, Reese, and Clay as people who would risk their lives for mine. 

I know to some that it may sound like I was discrediting my parents. I know they love me, but running into danger to save me? I don’t know. Mom maybe. Dad? As much as he loves me, I know he loves himself more. Plus, my cousins are jacked. They all have the Nikolaidis genes that give them the build and muscle that pulling someone from a car would be a cakewalk.

On the other hand, my rescuer wasn’t built anything like my cousins. She looked like heavy lifting wasn’t something she was made for. She was petite in build, delicate. And yet she risked her life in that storm to save Pockets and me. I owed her. That didn’t mean I trusted her.

I forced my aching body to sit up straighter, grimacing as my ribs protested with a sharp twinge. “And my dog?” I asked, my voice hoarse and barely above a whisper.

The woman—whoever she was—glanced at Pockets before returning her gaze to me. “He was trying to wake you up when I found you,” she said, her voice softening just a fraction, like the warmth of a dim light breaking through the gloom. “He’s fine. A little shaken, but he’s alright.” 

Pockets let out a tiny huff, his large eyes sparkling with an unspoken concern as if he understood the weight of the moment. I reached out instinctively, my fingers gliding over his soft fur, seeking comfort in his presence.

That’s when it hit me—like a bolt of lightning crashing through the fog of my thoughts.

The flash drive.

My breath caught in my throat, and a cold rush of panic surged through me, making my pulse race as if trying to escape my chest. I needed it. Everything I had against Stacey—every shred of evidence that could dismantle her carefully constructed web of lies—was on that tiny device. The thought of losing it sent chills down my spine.

I masked the sudden rush of anxiety, forcing my expression into something more neutral, a mask of composure. “My car,” I said, keeping my tone as steady as I could manage. “Did you—?”

“It’s still out there,” she replied, arms crossed tightly, her voice even and unyielding. “Not exactly in drivable condition, but I can help you figure something out when the storm clears.” 

But I couldn’t wait that long; I needed to act now.

“I had something important in there,” I said, carefully choosing each word. I tried to keep my voice casual, suppressing the desperation that threatened to seep through. “A drive. A flash drive. It’s small, silver, probably near the console. Did you see it?” 

Her brow furrowed slightly, the faintest hint of confusion crossing her features. “No. I didn’t exactly have time to search through your stuff. You were half-frozen, and I was more worried about getting you inside before you turned into a popsicle.” 

I closed my eyes momentarily, the weight of her words settling heavily on my chest. Time was slipping away, and I couldn’t let Stacey win.

Okay, so she made a fair point. But I needed that drive. I couldn’t risk losing it. I can’t risk it getting damaged. Or worse, I couldn’t risk it falling into the wrong hands. Sure, I had backups, but not easily accessible. Not where I could plug into a computer and expose Stacey to the world. All my backups were sent discretely to the people I trusted the most. You guessed it, my cousins. Clay, Reese, and the triplets should receive copies of the flash drive by courier today. I lumped Dairus, Elijah, and Forrest in one since they live together. Each envelope had instructions on what to do with the contents should they not hear from me in seventy-two hours. 

She studied me again, this time with a deliberate slowness that made me uneasy. Her gaze was sharp, too perceptive, probing beneath the surface.

“What’s on it?” she inquired, her tone laced with suspicion.

My jaw tightened instinctively. Her straightforward approach felt like an unwelcome spotlight.

“Personal files,” I replied, calming my voice. “Really important ones.” 

Despite my efforts, she didn’t look convinced. I could see the skepticism etched on her face, and I realized I had no time to change her mind. I was on a tight timetable, and that accident had just stolen precious minutes from me—minutes I couldn’t afford to lose.

I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, determined to stand—and immediately regretted it. Pain flared across my ribs, sharp and unrelenting, stealing the breath from my lungs. Shit. I clenched my jaw, gripping the blanket to steady myself, but even that small motion made everything worse. Seatbelt impact. Airbag. The crash had slammed my body harder than I realized.

Pockets whined softly, nudging his nose against my hand like he knew this was a bad idea. I sucked in a slow, shallow breath and looked up. The woman was watching me. Not with pity. Not with concern, exactly. More like... calculation. As if she was still trying to figure out if I was a problem or just an inconvenience.

“You should stay in bed,” she said, arms still crossed. “At least until you’re not wincing like that just from moving.”

I hated that she was right. But I hated being helpless more.

“I need to get to my car,” I said, trying to control my voice. Desperate wouldn’t help me. “There’s—” I hesitated. “My things are in there.”

She exhaled through her nose, the tiniest shake of her head. “Not happening. Storm’s still going, and you can barely sit up. You’d last about two steps before the snow knocked you flat.”

I gritted my teeth. Damn it. I didn’t know her or know if I could trust her, but right now, I didn’t have a choice. The flash drive. I needed it. The thought of it buried under snow, lost in my wrecked car, freezing along with everything else I’d left behind— made my skin itch.

The woman sighed, finally breaking the silence. “Look... I can go,” she offered reluctantly. I’ll see what I can salvage—your bags, your flash drive, if I can find it.”

I stilled. She didn’t have to do that. She didn’t owe me anything. Hell, I was a total stranger she’d found half-frozen in a car wreck. She could have left me. Instead, she’d dragged me out of the storm, given me her bed, and let my dog curl beside me like we belonged here. And now she was offering to go back into the storm for me.

I swallowed hard, trying to push down the uncomfortable twist that coiled tightly in my chest like a serpent ready to strike. “You don’t have to do that,” I said, my voice barely a whisper against the backdrop of the crackling fire.

She shrugged, her gaze drifting to the flickering shadows. “I know,” she replied softly, but her words offered no comfort.

An awkward silence settled between us, interrupted only by the crackling flames, their warmth lost in the cool air.

“Thanks,” I muttered, the words feeling inadequate.

She nodded, her distant eyes betraying a storm of unspoken thoughts, a wall rising between us.

“Try to get some rest,” she said firmly as she stepped toward the door, leaving an unsettling tension behind. “I’ll see what I can find.”

She was gone before I could ask her to stay, leaving me alone with Pockets, my ribs throbbing, and a knot of worry in my gut about how complicated everything had become.