Betrayed at Forty Below
We got caught in a blizzard—me, my fiancé Melvin Dunn, a few of his colleagues, including Sally Blom.
Middle of the night, I woke up shaking. My heavy-duty sleeping bag—the one built for minus forty—was gone. In its place? A flimsy summer quilt.
Sally was curled up in my bag, fast asleep in Melvin's arms.
I shoved him hard. "Why is she in my sleeping bag?"
He pulled me aside, whispering, "Keep your voice down. Sally's kinda fragile—she's about to catch a cold. You're strong. You'll be fine."
I pointed at my feet, already numb. "So I'm supposed to freeze to death for you two because she's 'fragile'?"
He frowned. "God, Peyton, stop being so dramatic. It's just a sleeping bag. Think about the team for once."
I laughed, tears slipping down my face.
Didn't say another word. Just crawled back into the corner, grabbed the sat phone, and called my brother—Captain of Stormfang Rescue, an elite international search and rescue team.
"Hugh, come get me. The coordinates are... Remember—I'm alone."