Cage of Ice and Echoes, page 1
Contents
1 - Frankie
2 - Leonid
3 - Kodiak
4 - Kodiak
5 - Frankie
6 - Frankie
7 - Leonid
8 - Leonid
9 - Monty
10 - Frankie
11 - Frankie
12 - Frankie
13 - Kodiak
14 - Kodiak
15 - Monty
16 - Monty
17 - Kodiak
18 - Frankie
19 - Frankie
20 - Kodiak
21 - Kodiak
22 - Kodiak
23 - Kodiak
24 - Monty
25 - Monty
26 - Leonid
In the quiet of my heart, where death whispers, I tread softly, carrying the weight of Wolfson’s absence.
A week has passed without him. A deep, black void. Cold. Painful. Never-ending.
Like the polar night.
Like our empty bellies.
Somewhere north of the Arctic Circle, I stand at the frosted window of our cabin, watching snowflakes dance.
Our cabin.
My prison for over four months. Longer for Leonid and Kodiak. They’ve been trapped here since childhood.
With Denver and Wolf gone, it’s our cabin now. A cage of ice with frozen pipes, dwindling pantries, and echoes of the dead.
A permanent chill lives on my skin, my goosebumps the size of cherries. But it’s a welcome distraction from the ache within.
The heavy weight in my arms, Wolf’s saxophone case, holds memories etched in brass and melody. A relic of a tortured soul taken too soon. His haunting music used to fill these walls as vibrant and inimitable as the northern lights.
Now there’s just silence. A silence so swollen it chokes.
I feel guilty wearing his coat when he died in the bloodstained ruins of mine. I feel guilty loving his brothers when I couldn’t love him the way he wanted. I feel guilty taking breath when I couldn’t stop him from taking his life.
I need you with me. We can finally be together.
He didn’t want to die alone.
Part of me, a dark, dangerous shadow, knows it would be easier to join him. To let the cold embrace me, to close my eyes and imagine it’s Wolf’s arms around me one last time.
I shake off the thought, my survival instinct still too strong. Even stronger is my love for his brothers. I would never do that to them, would never hurt them more than they’re already hurting.
The tread of boots drifts from the basement stairs, heralding Leo’s approach.
In the caress of candlelight, he emerges, a silhouette of sorrow, cradling a box laden with ghosts of the past. Within lie the remnants of innocence—clothes he and Kody wore as children—and the identities of women lost to this place. Among them, his mother.
My eyes, always on the brink of tears, look away.
Sensing my turmoil, he sets down the box, eases the case from my grip, and lowers it to the floor with reverent gentleness. His hands, red from the cold yet steady and firm, find my shoulders, anchoring me.
Our foreheads meet, resting together in a communion of pain.
“Breathe.” His voice is my lighthouse in the fog. “Again.”
Our lungs empty in unison, our breaths a coil of vapor.
“Want to talk about it?” His fingers dig in, massaging tense joints.
Wolf lives in my head in fragments, in flashes. Eyes that once held galaxies of mischief, now stilled. Hugs that once thawed the harshest winter, now phantoms. His punch lines and pet names, now lost to the wind.
Wolf.
My Wolf.
He left this world because it hurt him irreparably. From the moment he was born, it brutalized him, molested him, starved him of love, and ripped him apart.
No use talking about it. It won’t bring him back.
“We need to move forward.” I bury my hands in the fur of Leo’s coat. “I don’t want to cry anymore.”
Understanding shines in his mismatched eyes. “I miss you. Your smile. Your body. Your warmth.”
I sleep between him and Kody every night, swaddled in masculine heat. But that’s not what he means. He misses our intimacy. Our profound connection through sex. We haven’t been together like that in two weeks.
Days consumed by the relentless pursuit of sustenance and solutions leave no room for baser needs.
Nights, while tangled together in a pretzel of limbs, offer no comfort for longing hearts, only the stark reminder that every calorie must be conserved. Anything beyond tender whispers of love is a luxury we cannot afford.
“I miss you, too.” I hold my lips to his, soaking in his affection. “So much.”
Frustration sharpens his breath.
“This is temporary.” He steps away to collect the box.
“Forever awaits.” Whatever that means, however long it takes, I’m here for it.
I grip the handle of the saxophone case.
He snuffs out the candles. Then, hand in hand, we step outside, braving the maw of a howling blizzard.
Snow crunches under our boots. Icy air bites at our cheeks. The short trek to the workshop isn’t quick, thanks to the brutal, unrelenting wind. When we finally step inside and slam the repaired door on the storm, it feels like I traded one tomb for another.
Not enough candlelight to chase away the shadows. No heat source to cut through the cold. We’re out of coal and firewood, and the power system remains inoperable.
I’m afraid. Afraid of the isolation that gnaws as fiercely as the hunger. Afraid of the hope we put into a plane we don’t know how to fly. Afraid of a future devoid of Wolf.
He told us we would die before the thaw. I didn’t believe him.
But now…
We don’t talk about it. Instead, we tackle each day like the beginning of a great quest. A fresh start to a new life. In that vein, we’ve made it our mission to salvage pieces of our existence and stow them in the bush plane that promises escape.
I’ve been gathering Wolf’s belongings with a desperate fervor, things like his purple housecoat, dried-up sharpies, sketchbooks, hand-drawn illustration of the cockpit, and saxophone. I fear something irreplaceable might be accidentally destroyed as we break apart the cabin, bit by bit, burning its pieces to keep the fire going in the hearth.
We have months before we can attempt a takeoff. Loading the plane now might be getting ahead of ourselves. But it fuels our will to survive. Keeps the embers of our future alight in the darkness.
As I follow Leo through the frigid workshop, we pass the generator room, still haunted by Denver’s death, and emerge into the rear garage. Here, amidst shivery candlelight, the plane sits dormant.
Crouched beneath one of the wings, Kody lifts his head, and those coal-black eyes run me through.
A week’s worth of tension strangles the air between us. Even from across the garage, I sense his unease. I feel it in the bones of my soul.
Breaking eye contact, I breeze past him, still angry enough to hold a grudge.
Serves him right for his secrecy and stonewalling, plotting with the devil behind my back, and gambling his life. All of that after he yelled at me for confronting the very monster he was conspiring with.
I don’t blame him for Denver’s death. That burden is mine alone. But I’m not ready to forgive him for the rest. I need him to understand that our relationship won’t work without honesty, communication, and togetherness.
Leo helps me into the plane’s cargo hold, a silent witness to my conflict with his brother. He’s aware of the unresolved issues between us, but in matters of survival, it’s not a priority.
We add our collection of memories to a crate in the plane, which already contains Kody’s vodka recipes, Monty’s slippers, and my scrapbook, full of journal entries and hair samples, including the strands I plucked from Denver’s hairbrush.
If death finds us here, or if the skies claim us while we’re airborne, I hope the secrets Denver took to the grave will be unraveled by those who discover our remains.
Questions about Denver’s past haunt me day and night. What compelled him to move to this unsurvivable place and descend into madness? Had he always been a kidnapping, raping psychopath?
How are Leo, Kody, and Wolf—who were raised by Denver after he abducted their mothers—related to him and one another by blood? What about the unknown brother of Denver and Monty? Why did Monty never mention having siblings? What did Monty take from Denver to provoke him to take me in return? Are the five women before me connected to Monty, too?
Am I still Monty’s wife, or has he let me go? Did he look for me or accept the clues Denver left behind, believing I willingly left him?
The unknowns are a labyrinth with no end, and the answers may forever elude us.
Unless we can decipher Denver’s cryptic final words.
Beneath its wings lie the answers you seek in a cage of ice and echoes.
Obsessed, we’ve written this riddle everywhere—on the plane, our skin, the walls, the floors. Kody has been meticulously removing panels from the wings of the Turbo Beaver, searching for clues.
The phrase Beneath its wings taunts us. If not inside the wings, could it mean beneath the ground the plane rests upon? In the impenetrable permafrost?
The machinery required to build this place is long gone, ruling out anything hidden below. Denver didn’t have the tools to bury things under the workshop. It sits on a pad of gravel.
Leo kisses
I settle into the pilot’s seat, dwarfed by the daunting instrument panel, and rest my gloved hands on the U-shaped wheel. The complexity of the controls, blank screens, gauges, dials, and knobs—it’s all so utilitarian. Intimidating. Alien. Built like a tank.
To fly this without piloting experience, simulators, an aircraft manual, or instruction is a terrifying prospect.
Impossible, Wolf would say.
But we have no choice.
When the time comes, we’ll have to learn through trial and error, which in aviation can be unforgiving.
Running my fingers over the screen before me, I wonder about its purpose. Could it be navigation?
“Hey.” I pop my head out the open door. “If we can power this up, we might have GPS. Maybe comms, too.”
“Working on that, love.” Leo’s timbre, smooth as silk, drifts from behind the plane.
I catch sight of Kody, our gazes clashing as he scowls in his beautiful, broody way.
My heart aches with love for him, a love so intense it infuriates me. Turning away, I face the windshield and focus on bigger problems. Like the frostbite burning my nose. And the missing key to the plane. And the gnawing hunger.
We need answers. Solutions.
Leo, with his technical aptitude and knack for tinkering, believes he can bypass the plane’s ignition and manipulate the electrical system. He’s trying to do something similar with the cabin’s disabled power.
The cabin is his priority.
If he restores the electricity, the pipes would unfreeze. We would have lights. Movies to pass the time. Running water.
Oh, God, to have a hot shower again.
Given his skill at building and repairing machines in this godforsaken place, I have faith in him. But Denver was calculating. He kept all knowledge about the plane and hydroelectric generator safely guarded because it gave him leverage over his sons.
Extinguishing the candle beside me, I climb out and scan the garage for Leo.
“He’s in there.” Kody nods at the generator room.
A shiver spikes through me.
I can still feel the pipe in my hand and the crunch of Denver’s face caving in, turning into pulp beneath my bloodthirsty strikes.
Tools clang within the chamber, followed by a string of curses. Leo’s back at it, determined to undo whatever Denver did to the power system.
In the meantime, we need heat and better lighting in the garage if we’re going to continue spending every waking moment in here.
Hoss has three coal stoves. One in the kitchen and the other two in this building. Two weeks ago, Leo and Wolf mined a sled full of coal from an interior basin. But the snow machine didn’t return. It lies broken and silent, miles from our doorstep along the icy river.
“We need that coal.” I breathe into my cupped hands, trying to generate warmth. “How do we get it back to Hoss?”
“Leo’s the mechanic.” Kody takes a step closer to me, his voice thick, full of gravel. “When he’s ready to venture out again, we’ll work out the logistics.”
Like who goes and who stays.
They don’t want me to leave the cabin in this weather. They also don’t want me here by myself. With only three of us left, it’ll be interesting to see how they work through that dilemma.
“How long are you going to avoid me?” He watches me steadily, tracking every twitch like a damn stalker.
“I’m not avoiding you.”
With deliberate slowness, he narrows the gap between us, backing me against the airplane’s tail. No part of him touches me, but his heat invades, licking my body, top to bottom, front and back. It’s electric. Powerful. Maddening.
Rather than shrink away, I stand taller, lift on my tiptoes, and raise my chin.
I’m still a head shorter, a fraction of his size. Even now, after he’s lost so much weight.
For six weeks, we’ve been rationing, and the toll on his physique is concerning. He and Leo both. Yet his height remains imposing, towering, like an unclimbable mountain.
Despite my stubborn anger, I find myself fighting a different impulse—the desire to caress his cheek, his square-cut jaw, the rustic texture of his stubble, and the firm pillow of his pouty lips.
“What about the pemmican?” I fist my hands at my sides. “When will we retrieve that?”
The cans in the cupboard are diminishing, their labels a blur through my desperate tears. The thought of starving to death, especially when we have high-protein pemmican at their hunting cabin, is unbearable.
“That’s a thirty-mile hike.” His low, growly tone nettles my goosebumped skin. “Impossible in this storm.”
“How long until the storm passes?”
“A few days.” He leans in, his teeth bared like knives. “Or a few months.”
In a moment of weakness, I’m ensnared by the dark landscape of his brown eyes and bold, masculine features. Made by God and raised by the devil, he’s a formidable force of nature, devastatingly handsome, looming over me, stealing all my air.
“Back off.” I grind my molars.
“Make me.” He licks his lips, itching for a fight.
If he keeps looking at me like that, he’ll get one.
“Where are the rest of the candles?” My lungs pant, the heat between our mouths hot enough to melt the permafrost. “We’re burning through the supply in the cabin.”
“That’s all we have left.”
“So we’re to spend the winter in darkness?”
“Scared?”
“Fuck you.”
Kody, with his stalking and his secrets and his superior hunter’s instincts, can strike fear in the heart of anyone. But he doesn’t scare me. He makes me burn. And pisses me off.
“Let’s address something we can resolve.” His dark eyebrows slash over black eyes. “Like your attitude.”
“My attitude?” The implication penetrates, invading my veins like Denver’s needles.
“Yeah. Time for it to go.”
My temper snaps, and I slam my hands against the solid wall of his chest. He doesn’t budge, doesn’t give me an inch. Just steady heat and an unwavering glare.
“Which part should go?” I shove again. “My emotions? The tears in my voice? The distrust in my gut? The hurt in my heart?”
“What about my hurt?” He roars. “I lost my brother! A huge gutting part of my soul!”
“I lost him, too.” My sinuses steam, his grief prying me open, exposing the deep, yawning void where Wolf’s essence lingers, where he dwells, unforgotten, ever near.
Shadows stir behind Kody, and he spins, thrusting a finger at the intruder.
“No!” He bellows at Leo. “This doesn’t concern you.”
“You’re cornering my girl, snarling in her face.” His footsteps advance. “I’m about to send you through the goddamn wall.”
If I don’t intervene, he’ll do exactly that, spilling blood and wasting precious calories.
“Leo.” My breath fogs in the boiling space between me and his brother. “I have things to say to him. Let me say them.”
“Not like this. Not with his face that close to yours.”
“Yes. Exactly like this.” I stretch up on my toes, meeting Kody stare for stare. “You said Denver took years off your life when he looked at me. Imagine how I felt when I found you in that cage with him, naked, restrained, and yelling at me to get out. You broke my heart. Broke my trust. Broke everything inside me. I don’t know how to recover from that. I lost my mind. Lost my humanity. I almost lost you.” Tears well, and I swat them away. “So when you say this is an attitude problem, I say that’s a goddamn shortcut to thinking.”
Slowly, he reaches out and strokes a thumb across my wet cheek. He loves my tears as much as he hates them.
“You got what you wanted?” I smack his hand away.
“Yeah.” His jaw tightens. “Got my fighter. Knew she was in there, hurting, holding it all in instead of letting me have it.” He releases a clouded breath. “Need you to hit me over the head with it. The anger, the tears, the words—I want all of it.”
An honest request on demanding lips.
He’s not asking for forgiveness but a chance to earn back my trust.
I find Leo’s stony gaze a few paces away. He looks entirely too invested in this conversation, angry and conflicted, with his braids coming loose and his chest heaving like he just outran a bear.
