Page 71 of The Deadliest Game

"Safe enough," Isaac said, his voice a low rumble that resonated in the small space between us. He adjusted our sleeping bags, pressing them together for maximum warmth without crossing the invisible boundary running through the middle of our tent. “Tomorrow is going to be a bitch.”

As I lay there, listening to the howl of the wind and the rustling of the tent, I couldn't help but feel grateful for Isaac's presence. Despite everything that had happened—the pain, the loss, the secrets—he continued to fight for me.

He knew I didn’t want him, but the persistence felt less like a negative out here. I needed help, and he was stuck with me. It didn’t matter that it was for such a short time.

My thoughts drifted back to Antonio. A pang of guilt struck me, sharp and deep, as I was stretched out next to Isaac just a day after sharing Antonio’s bed, but I pushed it away. Now wasn't the time for such worries; survival was paramount.

"Get some rest, Carmen," Isaac urged gently, his breath warm against my cheek. "We've got a long journey ahead."

"Okay," I whispered, allowing my eyelids to grow heavy, surrendering to the bone-deep fatigue that gnawed at my every muscle. It felt good not to be so alone—we didn’t have to be friends.

"Goodnight, Rena,” Isaac whispered.

I ignored him as sleep carried me away from the perils of the present and into the haven of dreams. Even asleep, I went back to Antonio. It didn't matter that I was lying next to the man trying to force me to be his future wife.

My heart beat to the rhythm of rebellion.

Chapter23

The Earthquake

The first light of dawn crept through the tangled forest, casting a ghostly glow on the snow-covered ground. I found Isaac already awake, kneeling by the entrance of our tent. He had that intense look in his green eyes as he studied the landscape before us.

"Looks like we've got more snow than expected," he said, concern clear in his voice. "At least ten centimeters."

I pushed myself up and neared the tent's opening to peer outside. The world was still silent, blanketed in a thick layer of fresh snow. Our once-visible, slightly muddy path was now buried, leaving our journey ahead even more difficult than before.

But, when I looked at the top of La Doncella, there was no white cap. Something was wrong. It should be white.

"Can we make it to the base of La Doncella by nightfall?" I asked, my breath fogging in the frigid air.

Isaac's gaze remained fixed on the distance, calculating our chances. “I don’t know. Put on your snowshoes, and let’s get moving.”

I pulled on my boots and grabbed my thick jacket, gloves, and hat from the corner of the small tent. Our goggles went on, and my face stung from the wind burn. Conserving my energy was important, so I resisted calling on my Blood Magic. We worked together silently, packing away our tent and supplies with practiced efficiency. Each movement was calculated, every second precious in this race against time.

“Do you think that Santiago is all right?” I asked.

The snow crunched beneath our boots as Isaac and I trekked through the forest, each step making oval impressions in the thick blanket of white. The world was eerily quiet again, and for the first time, I didn’t see any competitors.

“We’ll find out when we get to La Doncella,” Isaac called out to me, his voice bouncing off every frozen surface.

“What about the quake?” I asked.

Isaac shrugged. “It was probably just a tremor. They aren’t common, but at least it scared away the wolves. They probably stayed hidden somewhere during the storm last night."

"Got it," I muttered, my eyes darting from one shadowy figure to the next. I hated wolves. But in the last day, something had changed. A sturdy resolve boiled inside of me—I would finish this. For myself, for Magda. The future felt less daunting the more time we moved without seeing someone else. We were doing well.

Without warning, the ground convulsed beneath my feet with a sudden and violent tremor that shook us. Cracks splintered through the snow like jagged veins, each fissure widening with every pulse of the quake.

And then it happened again. The ground beneath us shook violently as if possessed by some of the volcano's spirit—snow cascaded from the trees, a chilling deluge that threatened to bury us alive.

“¡Terremoto!" I cried out, panic rising as the realization struck me. Isaac's eyes widened, mirroring my fear, and without a word, we took off running together, adrenaline coursing through our veins.

A cacophony of crashing and snapping echoed from the trees, their limbs shuddering under the relentless force of the earthquake. The once-sturdy trunks creaked and moaned, driven to their limits by nature's wrath.

"Isaac, watch out!" I shouted, desperately trying to pull him away from the path of a massive branch that had succumbed to the quake. It fell with a sickening crash. Its naked boughs splayed out in all directions as it came to rest with a resounding thud.

As Isaac and I attempted to regain our footing, another monstrous tree plummeted toward the hard, unforgiving earth. The pine twisted awkwardly as it descended like a guillotine. Its thick branches clawed at the air, thrashing wildly in their doomed trajectory.

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