Chapter 1: Tension Beneath the Dying Campfire
The fire cracked and spat, sending a curl of orange sparks up into the dark. I leaned into Niko's shoulder, tracing the seam of his flannel sleeve with one finger, feeling the warmth of his skin through the fabric. He smelled like woodsmoke and cheap deodorant, and I let myself inhale it like I wasn't trying to.
"So," I said, dragging the word out. "If I got lost in these woods, would you come find me, or would you just remarry?"
Niko snorted, his chest shaking under my cheek. "Remarry. Gotta think about my future."
"You're a monster."
"I'm practical." He shifted, and his arm came up around me, settling across my shoulders like it belonged there. "Besides, you'd never get lost. You'd probably find some weird guy living in a shack and convince him to make you pancakes."
"Pancakes sound incredible right now," Maya said from across the fire. She had the map spread across her knees, Ethan leaning over her shoulder, his hand resting on her lower back in that easy way he had. "But only if we're sure about tomorrow's route. The trail markers stop about two miles past the ridge, and if we go off-book we're relying on the GPS."
"We've got the GPS," Ethan said. "And a paper map. And a compass. And your uncanny ability to remember every trail we've ever walked."
"That's not the same as knowing this one."
"It's fine, Maya." He squeezed her shoulder. "We did the research. Blackwood Ridge is marked as a beginner loop. We're not doing anything crazy."
Niko made a noise. "Speak for yourself. I'm planning to do something crazy. Anissa and I are skinny-dipping in that lake we passed on the way in."
My stomach did a little flip. "We are?"
"You said you wanted adventure."
"I said I wanted someone to rub my shoulders after carrying my pack up a hill. There's a difference."
The firelight caught the edge of his smile, crooked and easy. "I can do both."
"You'll do neither," Maya said, folding the map with a decisive snap. "We're getting up at six, we're hiking the eastern ridge, and we're back before dark. No detours, no mysterious lakes, no getting eaten by whatever lives out here."
"Nothing lives out here," I said. "That's the point. It's dead quiet."
Ethan's head came up. He was looking past the fire, into the wall of pines beyond the clearing, where the light didn't reach. His jaw tightened.
"Quiet's about to end," he said.
The branch snapped.
It wasn't a subtle sound. It was a crack that cut through the night like a gunshot, loud and close, somewhere thirty yards into the treeline. The kind of sound a deer makes when it's panicked. The kind of sound a boot makes when it lands wrong.
Every muscle in Ethan's body had gone rigid. He was watching the dark with a stillness that made the hair on my arms stand up.
"Probably a buck," I said, and my voice came out higher than I wanted it to. I reached for Niko's hand, threading my fingers through his. "They come down to drink. Right?"
Niko didn't answer. He was looking at the trees too.
The fire hissed. Nobody moved.
"Ethan," Maya whispered.
He held up a hand. His eyes were scanning the treeline, left to right, slow and methodical. "It didn't sound like a deer."
"What does that mean?" I asked.
"It didn't sound like a deer," he repeated. "Deer are quiet. They move in bursts, then freeze. That was steady. That was somebody walking."
The silence stretched. I could hear my own heartbeat, loud in my ears. The fire popped and a log collapsed, sending up a shower of sparks.
"Okay," I said, forcing a laugh. "You're freaking me out. It's fine. There's nobody out here. We're the only people for miles."
The cold weight pressed against the canvas of the tent behind us, a slow, deliberate pressure along the fabric, sliding down like a finger tracing a spine.
I felt it through the ground, through the air, through the primal animal part of my brain that didn't know words for what was happening.
"Guys," Niko said, his voice gone dead flat. "The tent."
We all turned.
The blade came through the nylon in a single smooth motion, silver in the firelight, sliding out of the dark like a tongue tasting the air. It drew a long seam down the side of our tent, cutting open the night, cutting open everything we thought we were safe from.