Page 44 of Wreckage

Now, I wasn’t so sure.

I hated myself, but the idea was festering in my mind like a spreading disease I couldn’t shake.

I clenched my fists, forcing the thought down as I looked at the tiny fire flickering in our makeshift pit.

Survival.

That’s all this was.

I turned to Elena, watching how the firelight flickered across her face.

I would get her through this.

Even if it killed me.

Chapter 17

Adrian

The fire worked.

I hadn’t been sure it would. I was grateful the smoke was being sucked out of the top, though, because it meant we wouldn’t choke to death in our sleep. We’d have to take turns tending to the fire all night, but it was worth the work we’d put in to make it happen. I’d started to worry about our last heating packets. I was even more concerned about food but hadn’t brought the subject up yet, opting to talk to Troy about it separately.

I tossed another small branch onto the fire, feeling smug about how it worked.

Hell, I had spent most of the time sawing through the roof and tearing that damn sink out of the bathroom, convinced it was a long shot. But now, sitting inside the warmest space we had occupied in nearly two weeks, I was grateful.

The heat from the small flames seeped into the metal walls, dulling the bite of the cold that had plagued us every night since the crash. It wasn’t perfect—we still had to feed the fire and keep an eye on the smoke ventilation—but it was something.

And for the first time in days, Elena looked better.

She sat close to the fire, her body wrapped in one of the blankets,her ankle still elevated. But there was color in her cheeks again, a soft pink flush that hadn’t been there since we went down. She looked more relaxed as if she wasn’t constantly bracing against the cold, pain, or reality of our situation.

That alone made all of this worth it.

Troy and I worked quickly, hauling in all the firewood we had gathered. The wind outside was shifting, thick with moisture, and I had no doubt the storm rolling in would be bad. If we were lucky, the wreckage would hold up against it. If we weren’t…

I shoved the thought away and focused on the task at hand.

Something clicked in my brain as I carried in another bundle of wood.

“The water tank must still be intact,” I said suddenly, setting the logs down near the fire.

Troy frowned. “What?”

“The toilet still flushes,” I explained, adjusting my gloves. “And it refills. That means the tank hasn’t been breached.”

Troy stared at me, then laughed sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Holy shit. That’s actually a solid win.”

“Yeah.” I exhaled, feeling the tiniest weight lift from my chest. “If we need to, we can tap into it for drinking water.”

Troy nodded, visibly relieved—but then his expression shifted, and I knew what was coming next.

“Food’s still a problem.”

I sighed, already exhausted by the conversation we were about to have. “I know.”

“I saw a rabbit earlier,” he continued. “It was bouncing through the snow while I was grabbing firewood.”

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