​Winters tended to wreak havoc on my psyche, but the addition of the polar night's perpetual darkness would make surviving the Alaskan winter even more challenging. 

 

I hadn’t considered that before boarding a flight out here. I hadn’t considered anything aside from finding my husband.  

 

Arriving today hadn’t been the original plan. A few more days to get my story together would’ve helped, but I had to beat the storm. I barely made it in time.

 

Just as the car rental agent warned, the storm knocked out the cell signal. He urged me not to make the trek out here, but I ignored him, writing the directions down as a backup plan in case the GPS went out. 

 

Adjusting my glasses, I triple checked the handwritten notes to confirm I was still on the right path. I’d left civilization in my rear view a dozen or so miles ago, and with the heavy snowfall increasing in speed and density, I couldn’t afford to get lost or stranded. Not until I reached my destination. 

 

After what felt like an eternity of navigating the snow and sleet-covered terrain surrounding the Delvoe estate, the eerie, palatial home perched at the top of a slope came into view. A chill crept up my spine as I thought about what lay ahead, but I couldn’t turn back now. Not when I could feel his presence after being empty without it for so long.

 

The windshield wipers did little to help with visibility. I could make out the home, but it was still a good distance away. I debated getting closer before enacting my plan, but it felt more realistic to get things started from here. 

 

I exhaled a shaky breath before cutting the engine and plunging myself into near darkness other than the interior light. I stared down at the Swiss Army knife in my gloved hand, wondering if it would get the job done. It was all I could find in the airport gift shop. “You can do this,” I told myself, the knife trembling in my unsteady fingers. 

 

After a few more words of self-encouragement, I zipped my heavy coat to my chin, secured my hood over my head, and exited the truck. The wind almost knocked me to the ground, but I grabbed onto the door just in time, managing to stay on my feet. 

 

Circling to the front of the rental and lifting the icy hood, I used my phone’s flashlight to find the correct wires and began the task of fraying them. They needed to appear as if they’d suffered normal wear and tear. A clean cut would’ve screamed sabotage. 

 

A small spark ignited before dying out, sending me back a few steps. The acrid scent of burned rubber filled the air. 

 

Next, I cut a hole between the rear tire tread, hoping it would hide the source of the flat if it came to it. Then I began to panic, wondering if adding the flat was overkill. What were the chances that the engine died and a tire went out? My hands shook so badly I lost my grip on the knife, my breathing ragged as I felt around in the snow for it. 

 

Carrying my duffle bag might have come off as suspicious and presumptuous, so I left it in the truck and took my backpack instead. I’d come back for the rest of my stuff if things went according to plan. 

 

Bracing against the screeching wind and blinding snow, I started the uphill hike to the spiked gates surrounding the old mansion. Apprehension worked its way into my already chilled bones the closer I drew, making me feel like I was freezing from the inside out. Something wasn’t right with this home. For every unseen force urging me forward, just as many warned me to stay the hell back. I kept trudging on, because my love overrode my fear. 

 

Out of breath and experiencing early symptoms of frostbite, I didn’t hesitate before pressing the intercom buzzer at the gate. I needed to get inside before the swelling in my hands got worse. My gloves were getting tighter around them. 

 

A sliver of light shone dimly from a second floor window slated between two decrepit pillars. I squinted, trying to make out the tall shadowy figure that parted the sheer curtain and peered into the night. My shallow breathing picked up pace, my breaths forming clouds in front of me. Would he let me in? Did he know it was… me?

 

I removed my snow speckled frames, using the cuff of my coat sleeve to wipe them off. He was gone by the time I slid them back on. I grabbed onto the iron pickets, desperate enough to try and slip between them. I was about to try when I noticed the small camera lens hiding within the intercom system. I did my best to calm down, to appear like nothing more than a man stranded during one of Alaska’s worst snowstorms on record.   

 

I pressed the buzzer again, then tucked my hands under my arms. The shivering wasn’t exaggerated. If he didn’t let me in soon, I’d lose all sensation in my body. With the engine unable to start now, I wouldn’t even have the heat in the truck’s cabin to keep me warm. 

 

Through the whistling wind, the faint sound of someone breathing came through the speaker. So faint I had to hold my own breath and lean in close to hear it. 

 

“Hello?” I called, after an excruciating few seconds of silence. He didn’t answer, but I knew he was there. “I, um, was on my way to visit family when my rental broke down. I’ve lost all signal due to the storm, so I can’t call a tow truck. I was wondering if I could use your landline?” There was a chance he could offer to call a tow truck for me while I waited here, but I doubted anyone was coming out to the middle of nowhere in these conditions. I was the only idiot on the road. 

 

If he asked for the phone number of my relative, I’d give him Amelia’s number. She wouldn’t answer. She’d take one look at the area code and run in the other direction. 

 

“Hello?” My heart raced. “I—”

 

“Who are you, and why are you here?” 

 

My knees weakened, and I held onto the gate to keep from falling to them. That voice didn’t belong to my husband. It wasn’t the modest, sweet voice that haunted my dreams. This man sounded hard, emotionless, impatient. It took everything in me not to break down in tears. I had to remember he was watching me. 

 

“My name’s Adam, and I told you—”

 

“No one mistakenly finds this property. You don’t just end up in the neighborhood. If you’re here, it’s because you intended to be.” 

 

Amelia mentioned that. She said he’d never go for my excuse because this place was built with privacy in mind. 

 

“It’s the perfect place to keep secrets hidden from prying eyes.” 

 

No one just bumped into it. Not unless… 

 

“I thought I saw a shortcut. A way to beat the worst of the storm. There was a path through the woods off Hand Groves Road. The snow hadn’t accumulated too much. I’m normally good with direction, so I figured I could cut through the tree tunnels that way, save myself some time. Avoid getting stranded. Ironic now, I know. The path spit me out on Dillinger Creek, from there I followed the narrow trail, hoping I’d find the main road again. It was stupid of me.” 

 

His breathing grew louder and heavier, and I fought to keep my face free of anguish, to not scream how much I missed him. “I can’t help you—”

 

“Please.” I swallowed past my panic. “It’s cold. I won’t make it on foot. I’ll die out here. Just one call. You can check my bag, pat me down if you want. I won’t hurt you,” I whispered. 

 

I could feel him slipping away, could feel the distrust through the gates, doors, and windows that separated us. I must have looked threatening to him, my goose-feathered coat adding bulk to my frame.

 

I pulled my license from my wallet with effort, holding it up to the camera. 

 

“Here’s my full name and address. My aunt has been trying to get me to visit for years. I tend to avoid the cold, and the dark,” I said, standing there surrounded by both. “It’s the combination of the two that I hate. It’s warm year round where I’m from. I finally give in, and this is what happens to me.” I let out a humorless laugh, my heart breaking from all the lies.  

 

A sharp gust of wind knocked my hood back, and nearly ripped my glasses off my face. I should’ve worn my contacts, but the black-rimmed frames tended to soften my appearance, disarming me. The cold bit into the bruise along my jaw, the sting reminding me it was there.  

 

“He’s a protector,” Amelia had said. 

 

I angled that side of my face toward the camera lens. “Please.”

 

After minutes of silence from his end, I began looking around for a good place to sit and freeze to death. I didn’t want to live without him anyway. Not any longer. 

 

The snow had reached my shins, and I’d just started attempting to walk in the direction I came from when the gates groaned open behind me. I spun around so fast I almost lost my balance. After taking a minute to gather my composure, I hurried through the opening before he could change his mind.

 

I took my time climbing the circular drive, afraid that once I laid eyes on him I wouldn’t be able to keep up the charade. I’d had to survive months without his smile, without his touch, without the tender way he loved. How could I possibly pretend not to be broken when finally faced with him?

The front door opened as I cleared the last step onto the porch. I’d never been more thankful for the cold weather. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been able to explain why I shook so violently. I’d never felt this helpless and confused in my life. Not even then. 

 

The young, beautiful man glaring at me held none of the softness my husband did. This man’s pale blue eyes were cold, making the blizzard at my back feel like the tropics. His clothing was colorless and rigid, the shirt buttoned up to the column of his slender neck, the shoulders complete with epaulets. Nothing like the silks and chiffon the love of my life once wore.  

 

His copper-toned hair still complimented his fair but rosy complexion. But the thick strands were woven into a single, severe braid instead of cascading in waves down his back.

 

The wind blew loose wisps of it around his face as he peered over my shoulder into the storm. His gaze narrowed as if searching the night for proof of my lies. The temperature didn’t seem to bother him. Maybe because he was equally as frigid.

 

“I’m alone,” I said, once I found my voice. He turned his hard stare on me, the light that used to shine behind it replaced by something dangerous. My husband wouldn’t have harmed a fly. This man seemed capable of cruelty. 

 

“C-can I come in?” My teeth chattered from the cold and fear. The fear didn’t stem from me being afraid of him—at least not yet. I was afraid I’d forever lost the man I used to know.  

 

He moved aside after taking his time assessing me. I stepped into the foyer, turning to see him slide several bolts into place. That’s when I noticed a key inserted into an impressive double cylinder lock, with a ring containing a slew of other keys attached. My heart jolted when he peered over his shoulder at me before turning the key slowly. The message was clear. I didn’t get out until he let me out. 

 

He attached the set of keys to a hook at the end of a retractable cord. He released it slowly, and I watched it slide up to rest at the swivel belt clip at his waist. 

 

“Your, um, phone. Can I use your phone?” 

 

“Landlines are down.” 

 

“Oh.” I swallowed hard. “Is it okay if I wait around for things to get up and running again?” 

 

“It could take a while.” There was something reptilian in the way he watched me. His stillness seemed unnatural. I felt like prey. Like instead of me being the clever one, I’d fallen right into a trap he’d sprung.  

 

“I don’t really have a better alternative.” I forced my gaze away from him to casually take in my surroundings. Discolored wallpaper peeled along the corners of the walls. A drab Damask pattern made popular in the middle ages. A rust-colored water stain covered a portion of the ceiling above us. 

 

The Delvoe’s—I’d learned—came from a long line of old money. This estate had been handed down throughout the generations, and while it seemed the structural integrity hadn’t been maintained, architecturally it felt like I’d been transported back in time.  

 

“Do you mind if I sit?” I pointed to the living room off the foyer with its Victorian furnishings. A fire raged inside the hearth. 

 

“Empty everything from your bag and pockets.” His voice monotone, as if he hadn’t heard my request. I removed my gloves and backpack, setting them on the wobbly foyer table before pulling out my laptop, chargers, and other miscellaneous items. 

 

I turned my coat pockets inside out—after removing my phone and key—showing him there was nothing else inside. I unzipped out of the heavy parka, laying it across the table as well. I tossed my wallet onto the pile, tugging the lining of my pants pockets out next. “Nothing but lint.” 

 

“You can wait for me there.” His gaze flicked to the living room then back to me.

 

“Where are you going?” 

 

“To get your room ready. I think it’s clear you won’t be going anywhere tonight.” 

 

“Okay. I really appreciate this. Hopefully the cell towers are functioning again by morning.” Even if they were, it would do little for the snow swiftly accumulating outside. No one in their right mind would attempt a rescue mission up here. 

 

“Leave them,” he said when I reached for my things. “I’ll make sure they make it to your room.” 

 

Somehow I didn’t believe that, but I nodded anyway. I watched as he shoved everything back into my backpack then climbed the double staircase ahead, crossing its balustraded mezzanine before disappearing from view. 

 

Releasing my first real breath since entering the house, I carried myself on shaky legs into the living room to warm my hands in front of the fire. I allowed the disappointment of him not recognizing me to settle in for a minute. Allowed the tears to form in my eyes before blinking them away. I’d convinced myself that I knew what I was getting into. That I could handle what I’d be faced with. I hadn’t realized until that door opened that I’d been kidding myself. I thought our love would save him, would bring him back to me the moment he laid eyes on me, but it didn’t. What was I supposed to do now? 

 

My gaze snagged on the telephone wire stapled along the room’s baseboard. I followed its path to the windows where the wire had been cut near the wall jack. 

 

“Landlines are down,” he’d said. 

 

The slight fluttering of the curtain caught my attention, and with a building sense of unease, I pulled the panel aside and stopped breathing altogether. The windows were barred from the inside.  

 

“Your room is ready for you.” 

 

I whirled around, hand flying to my chest. He stood less than a few feet away from me, looking unconcerned that his silent approach had scared me. Up close, and with the firelight providing better illumination than the poorly lit foyer did, I could make out the dark circles beneath his eyes. 

 

“You look tired,” I said without thinking. Did he still get cranky when tired? Maybe that was to blame for his dark mood. He didn’t seem to appreciate my concern, evident in the further hardening of his stare. “Sorry.” 

 

My fingers twitched at my sides with the urge to touch the thin line of scar tissue along his hairline. I wanted to know how long the pain had lasted after obtaining the blow that took things from bad to worse. I wanted to press my lips against it in apology for not being strong enough for him. For not being able to save him from himself. 

 

He turned on his heels, clearly expecting me to follow. 

 

Trailing him down the second floor hall, I noted how careful yet stealthy his movements were. He moved like someone who didn’t want to be seen or heard, someone who always wanted the element of surprise. Not even the keys at his waist jingled. 

 

Antique wall sconces barely lit our way, a few of them flickered like they were about to go out. 

 

We passed numerous closed doors. The locks on them were warded, meaning they required a master key to be opened. That explained the singular skeletal key I’d noticed on his key ring. 

 

We stopped in front of the only open door at the end of the hall. He gestured for me to enter ahead of him, and I ignored the alarm bells going off in my head to step inside.  

 

The opulent bedroom had been recently cleaned. The smell of disinfectant hung in the air. Odd, seeing as how I showed up unexpectedly, and he hadn’t left me alone downstairs long enough to clean a room of this size. 

 

“Were you expecting company?” I asked.  

 

“No.” 

 

I looked around for my things, but they weren’t on the bed or in the sitting area. They weren’t on the nightstands either. Maybe they were in the bathroom or the closet, I told myself, knowing in my gut they wouldn’t be there. 

 

I took my time walking toward the window, not wanting to give away how anxious I was. I had a view of the front yard, and I realized this was the window he’d been looking out of when I pressed the buzzer at the gate. Had I caught him in the middle of cleaning? 

 

My intentions were to gauge the distance between the window to the front lawn. With the front door locked from the inside, I needed to find alternative ways out if it came to it. Jumping from this high up might not have been a problem with the snow there to cushion my fall. But then I noticed the window was nailed shut. My stomach sank. I turned to the doorway, where he waited with a darkened gaze. 

 

“Where are my things?” I managed. 

 

“There’s no signal. They’re useless to you.” 

 

“I guess I’m just used to having them near me.” I forced a smile. It slipped away when I spotted the key he now held in his hand. The curtain billowed away from the window as a stiff draft seeped in through the chipped frame. I shivered, keeping my gaze tied to his. 

 

He was so beautiful. Fierce, brave, and protective. I ran my fingers along my bruised jaw, understanding now that it hadn’t played a role in him letting me in. 

 

“He’s a protector.”  

 

He was. I could see that now. Could see it in every action he’d taken since I arrived. But he was their protector, not mine. I realized I was afraid of him after all. Because while I would never hurt him, for them, he would eviscerate me. 

 

“I don’t think I’m ready to go to bed just yet. Maybe we can go back to the living room.” 

 

He didn’t answer, just stared at me with a blank expression. His hand moved to the bulge in his waistband. I hadn’t noticed it before. His shirt had been untucked just enough to camouflage the butt of the gun. 

 

The back of my skull ached with phantom remembrance. 

 

I licked my lips, swallowing hard before asking a question I already knew the answer to. “Am I your prisoner?”

 

“Yes,” he replied simply. 

 

“Well,” I started with more bravado than I felt, “do I get to know the name of the man holding me captive?” My heartbeat pounded in my ears as the clock on the wall ticked. 

 

“He sees himself as the brave one.”

 

“Or are you afraid of me knowing? Think I might tell someone once I get out of here?” I fisted my trembling hands behind my back. 

 

A spark of challenge, and maybe even pity lit his eyes, as if he wanted to say I wouldn’t be making it out of here alive. “Sparrow,” he whispered. 

 

“His name is Sparrow. I met him once, only I didn’t know it at the time.”

 

“The gatekeeper,” I breathed to myself, right before he closed the door and locked me in.