Page 20 of Primal Snow

It was just a fever dream, and I wouldn’t be surprised if I had a concussion. I should have known better when he hit me with Rhysand’s line. A cruel joke—my mind’s last attempt to cling to him. To pretend for just a moment that everything’s okay. But it isn’t. And it never will be.

We didn’t have enough time. He didn’t even get a chance to really live yet…

Pain comes next.

My head feels like it’s been split open, and I groan, trying to move, but my body protests. Everything hurts. My arms, my legs, my ribs—they all scream at me the moment I shift. I pry my eyes open, but even the dim light stings.

Slowly, my vision adjusts, and the immediate terror settles in.

Where am I?

The rest of the memories slam into me like a truck, crushing me. The cabin. The blizzard. The blood. My friends—God, my friends.And Chase.My Chase…Yeti’s claws ripping through all of them like paper. So much screaming. The crunch of snow under my bare feet. The freezing air slicing into my lungs. My hysterical, clumsy sprint through the forest, and one thought keeping me moving—if I just kept running, maybe I’d survive.

But the beast caught me.

Abducted me.

The nightmare was real.

And now, I live in it.

I try to sit up, but my arms jerk against something cold and unforgiving. My wrists are bound. Shackled. Panic swells in my chest, and I tug at them, the metal biting into my skin. The clinking sound echoes in the space around me, sharp and eerie.

“Help,” I whisper, though I already know no one’s coming.

Maneuvering my arms, I push myself upright, chains dragging across the ground, the pain in my body flaring with every movement. A fire burns in the center of the cave, and its warmth brushes against my naked skin, but it feels sinister, not comforting. Thick, jagged bars stand in front of me, forming a crude cage. They aren’t evenly spaced—some are wider apart than others—but it’s functional, made of rusted iron and scrap metal, forged with no care for precision, like Yeti learned how to work with whatever he could find. And it’s clear that his mind is as sharp as his claws.

I’m trapped.

The chains that hold me are another monstrosity entirely. Each link is the size of my fist, connecting to thick, heavy shackles that are fastened tightly around my wrists. The shackles are coarse with rust, the iron biting into my skin, but the chains have been left loose enough for me to walk freely around the cage. They snake up toward the ceiling of the cave, secured to a huge, rough wooden beam above me. I can’t see the exact mechanism, though it’s obvious that this was all purposefullyconstructed to keep his prey suspended in the air.

Then I look down, and my stomach drops.

Bones.

They’re scattered across the ground, their pale shapes glistening in the firelight. Some are small—animal, maybe—but others… others are human. I know they are. A skull lies just a few inches from me, its empty sockets staring back, mocking my horror.

I’m not the first one in here.

I scream. It tears out of me, raw and instinctive. I scramble backward, my chains rattling, until my back hits the cold stone.

Me. I’m prey. And there’s no escape.

I yank at the chains again, harder this time. “Help!” My voice cracks, desperate and shrill. “Please! Somebody help me!”

Silence.

My breathing is wild, my heart racing as I take in the rest of my surroundings. The tunnel stretches on both sides, with no outside in sight. The fire pit in the center is the only source of light and warmth. A patch of furs lies spread out nearby, piled on top of one another to form makeshift bedding. That must’ve been where I was before.

Close to the bedding, what looks like the remains of a plane wreck are scattered—rusted and jagged metal parts. Several seats have been salvaged and twisted into a functional chair, big enough to fit Yeti’s frame. Pieces of aluminum have been used as part of the cage’s structure itself.

In the den’s corner, there’s a giant pile of clothes, butnot his own—bits of various human clothing, torn and ragged. These were taken from his victims, likely ripped from their bodies after the hunt. He’s collected them like a disturbing trophy pile meant to claim them as part of his lair… How serial killer of him.

This is just fucking perfect. Not only is he a wild beast but also a psychopath.

Beside the clothes, there’s something more useful—tools. A collection of things he must’ve stolen from cabins, hikers, and cars. Rusted knives, a crowbar, a hammer, an axe, even a flashlight. It’s hard to believe that something so human could find its way into the hands of a creature like him. But Yeti is intelligent, isn’t he?

Farther into the cave, I hear a quiet yet distinct sound of dripping water. The light barely reaches there, but I can see a tiny stream running beneath the rocks, where the river flows in from somewhere deep within the mountain. A large, hand-carved, stone basin is placed underneath, collecting it.

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