Sleet And Scars

The ones who survive the fire don't fear the dark. They marry it.

TESSA

Four highly trained evaluators before me went up that mountain, and every single one of them failed. They returned with notes of a hostile, paranoid hermit rotting away in absolute darkness. But I didn't volunteer for this psychiatric field assignment to check off regulatory boxes. I came to unmask the man who was behind the rifle the day my brother Caleb's world exploded. I carry my brother's dog tags against my pulse and a fierce need for answers. What I didn't count on was the raw, devastating gravity of Bodi Thorne—and the fact that he doesn't just hide from the world. He's hiding from himself.

BODI

Three years ago, an engineered intelligence failure unmade my unit, stole my unscarred face, and bled out my spotter right next to me. I retreated to an inaccessible, boarded-up cabin in the brutal peaks of the Montana Bitterroots to serve a lifetime sentence of self-punishment. I engineered this dark fortress because a man remade by fire shouldn't be looked at. Then Tessa Vance steps through my door. She looks at my scars without flinching, recites my traumas like a weather report, and forces me to stand in the light.

When a savage winter whiteout cuts off the mountain and completely kills our generator, survival overrides protocol. Trapped in a freezing, claustrophobic cabin, the boundaries between clinical distance and physical hunger completely disintegrate. As we spend our nights breathing the same air, her clinical notes melt into a desperate, uncontrollable physical and emotional alliance.

But the real threat isn't the cold. Together, we piece together my wall of surveillance maps only to realize a terrifying truth: the entire evaluation process was weaponized against me. They sent a grieving sister as a perfect, unwitting weapon to declare me delusional and bury the evidence of a high-level military conspiracy forever.

The fronts are stacking, the roads are clearing, and a private kinetic team is moving up the mountain to execute a judicial order designed to silence me permanently. We have forty-eight hours to finalize our evidence and step out of the dark. Because to survive the ambush, we have to choose the most dangerous thing of all: to be seen.