Page 2 of Trapped with the Ice Queen

Her heart thudded heavily, the sound magnified by the oppressive silence. The storm seemed to absorb every noise, leaving only the eerie hiss of falling snow.

The visibility through the windshield was almost nonexistent now, the swirling white obliterating any sense of direction, not that she knew where she was anyway. The mountains loomed unseen but ever-present, their isolation pressing against her like an invisible hand. She squinted into the snowstorm, trying to find some semblance of a landmark—a tree, a rock formation, anything—but the world beyond the car was nothing but an endless curtain of white.

The silence grew heavier. Snow muffled everything, even the soft creaks of the cooling engine. It was as though she had been dropped into a void, a cold, unfeeling void where time ceased to matter.

A sudden gust of wind howled through the trees, shaking the SUV slightly, and Vivienne jumped. She clutched the flashlight tighter, her pulse thrumming in her ears.

Panic edged into her thoughts. What if no one found her? The storm was too fierce, the roads too treacherous. No one would think to look for her this high up the mountain.

Not tonight. Not in this.

She tried the ignition one more time, out of desperation rather than hope. The Range Rover sputtered weakly, its engine refusing to turn over.

Her throat tightened. She pressed her forehead against the steering wheel, trying to summon the composure that had seen her through boardroom battles and PR crises. But this was different. This was primal. The storm didn’t care about her success, her power, or her carefully maintained image.

She looked out the window again, watching the snow pile higher against the door. A few hours ago, the cabin of the SUV had felt like a fortress, a shield against the elements. Now, it felt like a coffin.

Time passed in an indistinctblur. Minutes? Hours? She had no idea. And worse, the storm’s fury showed no signs of easing up. Her phone was a dead weight in her lap, its screen stubbornly displaying ‘No Service.’

Options dwindled with each passing minute, each fresh wave of snow. She needed to do something, anything, before the storm buried her completely.

She forced herself to think rationally, to remember the survival articles she had skimmed in glossy magazines while waiting for her spa appointments. Stay in the car, they had always advised. Conserve body heat. Don’t wander into the wilderness.

But how long could she wait?

Her stomach growled, a sharp reminder of the dinner she had skipped in her rush to leave Denver. The silence inside the SUV was deafening now, broken only by the faint creak of the frame as the wind pressed against it.

She switched on the flashlight and scanned the interior, as though something useful might miraculously appear. The beam of light caught on the space blanket she had found in the trunk, crumpled on thepassenger seat. She spread it over herself, the material crinkling loudly in the stillness.

It wasn’t enough. The cold seeped into her, bone-deep and unforgiving. Her thoughts drifted to the headlines that would follow this disaster: “Fashion Mogul Freezes to Death in Mountain Storm,” “Tragic End for Vivienne Blackwood.”

Her chest tightened again, this time not from the cold. The weight of her loneliness settled heavily over her, more cruel than the storm outside.

A distant noise startled her—a low rumble, barely audible over the wind. Her heart leapt. Was it a plow? Another car? Rescue?

She strained her ears, but the sound faded almost as quickly as it had come, leaving her once again in silence.

Her hands trembled as she adjusted the flashlight, the beam catching on the ice-coated windshield. For the first time, tears pricked her eyes, hot and unwelcome.

“Blackwood women don’t panic,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “We assess and adapt.”

But as the hours stretchedon and the storm howled louder, even that mantra began to lose its power.

The silence pressed in, growing heavier with every passing second. Vivienne flicked the flashlight off and leaned her head against the steering wheel, staring into the inky blackness of the storm. She’d always hated silence—true, suffocating silence. At least in the city, even during the loneliest moments, there was noise. Horns honking, distant music, voices filtering through thin apartment walls.

But here in the Rockies, the quiet wasn’t comforting. It wasn’t peaceful. It was hostile, a void so absolute it made her feel as though she’d been erased from existence.

She dug her nails into her palm, forcing her thoughts back to something tangible, something actionable. The storm would end eventually. It had to.

Her gaze drifted to the dashboard clock, its glowing numbers marking time in a way that felt almost mocking. Ten minutes had passed since the engine failed. Ten minutes that stretched like hours. The cold crept in, persistent and insidious, wrapping itself around her legs and shoulders no matterhow tightly she tucked the space blanket underneath her.

She flicked the flashlight back on and rummaged through the car’s compartments again, more frantic this time. The meager emergency supplies taunted her. There was no way she could survive out here overnight, not with just a thin blanket and a flare.

“Think,” she whispered aloud, her voice shaky from both fear and chill. “Think, Vivienne.”

Her mind churned through options, rejecting them as quickly as they formed. She could try to hike back toward the nearest town, but in this storm, she’d be lucky to take ten steps before getting hopelessly lost. She could sit tight and wait for someone to find her, but who even knew she was here? Sophie’s call had dropped before she’d explained where she was.

Her breath hitched.

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