Chapter 63: The Solitary Walk
The howling gale tore through the narrow gap between the Sterling carriage house and the garden wall, striking Nerida with a force that spun her sideways into a waist-deep snowbank. The negative fifty-degree air hit her chest like a heavy lead weight, collapsing her lungs before she could pull oxygen into her burning windpipe. Every inhale felt like drawing pulverized glass across her tongue, bringing a violent, dry cough that dropped her to her hands and knees in the powdery drift.
She scrambled forward on all fours, her designer snow boots slipping helplessly against the glazed crust of ice buried beneath the snow.
The avenue was a desolate, frozen graveyard where all signs of civilized life had been buried beneath five feet of wind-carved drifts. Luxury
