Their Mountain Captive by Kayla Wren

2

Dante

My boots are silent, creeping through the trees, the thick soles cushioned by dried pine needles. I’ve been here for almost two years and never had a day’s trouble, but still the habit stays.

I will never be safe. Not really. Not as long as my brother suspects I am alive. So I move through the mountains on silent feet; I keep to myself and rarely go into town.

I live the life of a paranoid recluse.

It’s fine. It’s better than the way I lived before.

I was never one for the wilderness before I fled my family’s city. I grew up in luxury, surrounded by fine art and fast cars, dressed in tailored clothes.

My flannel shirt shifts over my shoulders.

Things have changed.

When I first came here, broken and alone, I thought Lonely Mountain was ugly. The scarred heap of rock seemed to deserve its name, and the biting wind set my teeth on edge. Even the bird calls grated on my ears, and I questioned my sanity hundreds of times.

I mean, come on. Could I not have started over on a nice tropical island?

This is better, though. My family would never think to look for me here, where luxury is a dirty word. And they underestimate me, because I would give anything—would live in the lowest squalor—to be free of them.

Cold and bored, yes, but free.

The shadows shift around me as I walk, the evening light tinted pink. It’s beautiful, in a harsh way. I can see that now. Just like I can name the plants tickling my pant legs; can identify the birds by their calls.

Alec helped me with those things.

Another thing my family would never expect.

The clutch of dead rabbits swings from my hand, and I strain to listen as I walk. They weren’t messy deaths—I’m not cruel like the other Marinos—but the scent of blood could still bring bears. There’s a gun strapped to my back, more for people than animals, but I’ll use it if I have to.

I’ll do anything if the need is dire enough.

My family taught me that.

It’s a relief when I catch the first glimpse of my cabin: a sliver of wood through the dark trees. I’d never admit it to Alec, but when I go out on hikes, I’m never one hundred percent certain I’ll find my way back. The mountain is too winding and warren-like; the pale rock face like the moon. But I’ve never had to call him for help yet, so that’s something.

A small victory.

“Grazie Dio.” I pick up the pace, the rabbits swinging wider now. I’m too eager to splash water on my cheeks, to grab a beer from the cooler, and I get sloppy.

There’s no excuse.

“Dante.” A hand snakes out between the trees and grips my forearm. I spin, my hand already on my gun, but it’s Alec.

Shit.

It’s Alec.

His pale, clean-shaven face is grim, his green eyes hard. The back of his hand is laced with old scars, and they stand out white against his knuckles where he grips me.

“Do you want to die?” I hiss, my heart thundering beneath my coarse shirt. I force my stiff fingers to let go of my gun. “Do you want me to shoot your stupid face off?”

“Look at your cabin.” He’s ignoring me, as always. He’s too calm, too unflappable for my outbursts to sink in. My furious words land on Alec’s broad shoulders and slide right off, pattering onto the dead leaves.

I tear my scowl away from the other man and peer through the evening gloom. The cabin is still a distance away, blending eerily with the trees, and it takes a minute for me to see what he means.

There.

A darker patch on one window. A gaping hole where there should be glass.

“Motherfucker,” I growl.

There’s someone in my cabin.

“I passed by at noon. The window was fine.” Alec is still holding my forearm. I should shake him off, should storm through the trees and get this shit show over with, but his steady voice reins me in.

“My brother?” I grit the words out. There’s only one person still hunting me. I keep tabs on the Marinos—not just through the papers, but through their emails. Their phone lines. Every person in my family believes that I’m dead… except for my younger brother Angelo.

Alec hums. “It’s sloppy. Could be a hiker. Or a bear.”

I scoff, shaking him off this time. I don’t have time for bullshit. There’s someone in my home. “And this bear picked my cabin? Out of all of Lonely Mountain? Doesn’t that seem like a fucking coincidence?”

“Dante,” Alec calls, but I’m already striding away. Weaving through the trees, breathing hard as I go. The rabbits swing in my hand, not important anymore, but hey—if it is a bear, they’ll make a good distraction.

Something tells me a bear wouldn’t smash a window. That it would break the goddamn door down, like it was crumpling cardboard.

Alec is right, though. Angelo wouldn’t smash a window. He’d case the cabin, surveying it for weeks. He’d tap my phone and steal my food, driving me out of my mind with suspicion and fear. And when he was finally ready to give me a heart attack, he’d leave his calling card.

A black business card, embossed with silver.

Angelo Marino sends his regards.

Grown men have pissed their pants when they found Angelo’s card on their doorstep. There’s no way he’d miss the chance to do that to me. And when I get close enough, I pause in the shadows, scanning the deck for a black business card.

Nothing. Just glittering shards of glass.

So who the fuck is in my cabin?

“I did a lap before you came.” Alec’s at my shoulder with no warning, no snapping of twigs. He’s better at the mountain life than me—a natural. He moves through the rocky landscape like a ghost. I glance at him, the evening light playing golden in the strands of his tawny hair, and nod.

If he says he checked it out, I trust him.

And that’s the biggest irony of it all, but I don’t have time to stand here and wonder.

My window is smashed.

My home has been breached.

And someone must pay. You can take the Marino out of the mob…

“The front door?” I murmur. It could be a trap. There could be dozens of my father’s men inside, bristling with guns and tailored suits. But Alec nods.

“It’s the best entry point.” I begin to walk forward, but his grip snags my wrist. “Dante. I’ll go first.”

Fuck. That.

“Absolutely not,” I hiss, wrenching my arm away for the second time today. If he thinks I’m going to let him risk his life for me—the only true friend I’ve ever had—

“Dante.” He sounds tired. “I’m trained for this. Remember?”

I don’t care. Alec doesn’t do that shit anymore—he got a clean slate, same as me. So I don’t care that he’s probably right, that it’s the smart way to do this.

No one cleans up my messes for me.

“Stay out of sight.” I stride away before he can argue, ignoring the soft stream of curses I leave behind. I should be careful about this, should do this delicately, but Alec pissed me off with that stupid suggestion.

I’ve always been hotheaded. No reason that would change along with everything else. So I pound up my deck steps, not even trying to be quiet, and kick open my door.

* * *

A shriek pierces the air of my cabin. Across the room, a young woman sits frozen in horror on my sofa, her dark hair tangled around her shoulders. Her knuckles are white where they grip the seat cushion, and one foot is propped up on my coffee table.

Alec made me that coffee table. He hand-carved the patterns in the wood.

“Who the fuck are you?”

My question is quiet. Deadly. But the door slams shut behind me, and glass crackles under my boots. I stride into the dim interior of my cabin, a thousand possibilities tangling in my head.

Angelo sent her.

It’s a hit job.

She’s a spy.

She’s the dumbest goddamn hiker on these mountains, breaking into a cabin and lounging on the sofa.

“I’ll count to five.” Her face is ashen as she scrambles to her feet, her boot thumping against my rug. She winces, yes, and that could be convincing—

If Angelo didn’t pull this kind of shit all the time.

He loves mind games. Lulling people into a false sense of security, then knocking the legs out from under them. So I pull my gun as I walk forward, heart hardening to stone.

Counting: “One. Two. Three. Four—”

“Stop! Oh my god, stop.” She holds up her palms, her hands trembling. And I swear I hear her mutter, “Prepper freaks.” But then she speaks louder, clearer, her voice surprisingly strong considering the way she’s shaking like a leaf.

“I’m Roxy. Roxy Williams. I got hurt hiking, and I came here for help.” She talks quickly, edging around the side of the coffee table. Giving herself a clear run at the door. Smart girl. “I’m s-sorry about the window. I’ll pay for the damage, I swear.”

“Don’t move.”

She freezes, eyes darting at the doorway. Trying to judge whether she could make it, even though she’d have to go past me.

“Don’t try it,” I tell her softly. “I won’t pause.”

I can see the exact moment the truth of that statement sinks in. She sags, her shoulders slumping, her hip still propped over one leg.

Is it true? Could this all be the world’s worst luck? Hope blooms in my chest. I could let her go. We could even drop her in town with the mountain rescue, get her some first aid.

“Listen. Listen. Dante, right?” I freeze, my palm growing slick around my gun. She babbles on, not noticing the way the temperature has plummeted. Ice crystals might as well form in my breath. “This isn’t a big deal. I’ll pay for everything, and—and I’ll get out of your way. Right now. Right this minute. I hit my head earlier and I wasn’t thinking straight—”

She’s shuffling toward the doorway again. I level the gun at her chest.

“How do you know my name, little girl?”

She splutters, wide eyes fixed on the gun. Two spots of color burn high on her pale cheeks, and she actually sounds offended when she speaks.

“Little—excuse me? I am a grown woman, you asshole.” I twitch the gun and she swallows. Talks faster. “I looked through your drawers. I wasn’t stealing, I swear, I was just looking for a phone or—or anything. Something to get me out of this mess.” She trails off, muttering under her breath, but I’ve heard enough.

She knows who I am.

Alec will know.That’s the first thought in my head, and it makes a hard knot sink through my gut. Alec will know that she was here—what I did with her.

“I’m sorry.” I even mean it as I raise the gun.

“Dante!” The door swings open behind me. And Alec is here, forcing my outstretched arm down. He murmurs to me like he’s trying to calm a spooked horse, his words steady and soothing in my ear. “Don’t do that. Not yet. Let’s think this through, alright?”

As if Alec would let me kill a girl after we talk about it. Bullshit. My chance is gone.

And with it, every last hope I had of a normal life here—that’s gone, too.

My ribs are knit tight with loathing as I turn to the woman.

“Do you know what you’ve fucking done?” I spit the question, and she shakes her head fast, glancing at Alec for help, but she won’t find any there.

He has no stomach for killing. But he won’t let her just walk out the door either. Not until we think this through, not until we have a plan.

“Get on the bed.” Alec says, resigned.

Her face goes chalky white. It’s a death pallor, and I swallow down a bitter laugh.

“We don’t want to touch you, little thief.” I twitch the gun toward the bed. “We just want to keep an eye on you.”

She eyes me doubtfully, but what can she do? And that realization firms her mouth in a line.

She limps all the way to the bed. She’s either an excellent actress, or she really is hurt. I glance at Alec, and he’s already nodding. He’ll see to her.

What a mess.

“This is definitely illegal,” she’s saying as Alec ties her wrists to the bed frame. Her boots are tramping dirt on my clean sheets. “This is kidnapping, or abduction, or something like that. Are you listening? It’s a crime.”

“So is breaking and entering,” Alec sighs.

He’d know. He may have turned in his badge and his gun, but Alec worked for the FBI for a decade before he quit. Before he tracked me out here, ready to finish things once and for all…

Then showed mercy.

God knows I didn’t deserve it.

“What are you going to do with me? It’s just a stupid window. What is wrong with you two—”

“We’re going to treat your cuts. Bind your ankle. Feed you dinner. And go from there, alright?” The way he says it is so reasonable. Like we’re doing her a favor, and I stifle a smirk as she blinks, bemused. Then reality sets back in and she scowls, opening her mouth to yell, and Alec slips a gag neatly between her teeth.

“You do that way too easily,” I murmur. I can’t help myself when it comes to Alec. Nudging him, riling him up—it’s my greatest pleasure out here. “Is there something I should know?”

But the smirk slides off my face when Alec stands and turns to me. He is not amused. This isn’t funny. And doubt clouds his green eyes.

He’s not sure if he’s doing the right thing; not sure I’m worth it.

I swallow hard.

“I’ll get some supplies,” Alec mutters, his gaze dropping to the rug. Then he strides past, and leaves me in the ringing silence.