Snow Angel: Rebirth

Chapter Four

Doc set his coffee mug down on the smooth wood of the table, the ceramic clinking softly in the quiet cabin. He didn’t speak right away. He just looked at Jake.

To anyone else, Jake would’ve looked solid — jaw set, back straight, hands folded neatly on the table. But Doc had spent years watching men hit their limit, and he knew the signs. Jake’s shoulders sagged under an invisible weight. The sharpness that usually defined his posture had dulled, leaving him hollowed out. Under the lantern’s stark glow, his eyes were flat, rimmed red. When he reached for his mug, his fingers didn’t shake. Jake never shook. But the movement was slow, deliberate, like every muscle had to be convinced to work.

Doc took a sip of coffee. “You look like hell, brother,” he said quietly. When was the last time you slept.”

“Feels like years.” After a few seconds, Jake shook his head as if to clear it.

“I’m functional, Doc.”

“Barely,” Doc said.

“It doesn’t matter. We need to figure out what to do with this situation.”

Doc straightened, pinning Jake with a steady look. “What do we know?”

“Not much.” Jake’s voice stayed low, controlled. “She has money — or someone close to her does. The injuries were deliberate. There’s been no news about a missing woman. That tells me she knew who did this, and they don’t intend to find her alive. They’re going to come looking. She woke up for a few seconds. Someone’s hunting her, and she’s terrified of them.”

Doc nodded slowly. “But who?”

“That’s what I intend to find out when she wakes up.”

Doc studied him for a long moment, seeing the exhaustion behind his eyes — the kind that had been building for years, not hours.

“In the meantime,” Doc said quietly, “you need rack time. You’ve been running on empty for months and tonight pushed you past the line.”

Jake’s jaw tightened, but Doc didn’t let him look away.

“You came up here to clear your head,” Doc said. “Instead, you found her. And you’ve been holding her together with your bare damn hands for the last two hours. Lie down before you drop.”

Jake opened his mouth to argue, but Doc was already moving. He grabbed a sleeping bag from his pack, tossed it down near the iron stove, and gave Jake a look that ended the discussion.

Jake didn’t fight it.

Eight hours later, Jake woke to a soft boot nudging his shoulder.

“She’s coming around,” Doc said, voice low. “I shut off the sedation twenty minutes ago and pulled the tube. She’s awake, but confused and scared. Her throat’s raw, so keep it quiet. You’ve got fifteen minutes. Then I’m putting her back under to let those ribs rest. Make them count.”

Doc walked back to the bed.

Jake pushed out of the sleeping bag, rubbing the exhaustion from his eyes. He crossed the room and knelt beside the woman.

Her eyes were open — glassy, unfocused, rimmed with fear.

Jake kept his voice soft. “Miss, my name’s Jake. You’re in my cabin. I found you in the snow. This is Doc — he’s been helping you. We need to know who to call. Someone who should know you’re safe.”

“No.”

The word tore out of her — a ruined rasp, but sharp with terror. Her eyes widened, wild and pleading. Jake blinked; the force behind her refusal was stronger than he expected. Her trembling hand reached for him, fingers curling into his sleeve with surprising strength.

“If… if you call anyone…” Her breath hitched, her ribs protesting the movement. “He’ll find me.”

Jake’s stomach tightened. He hated this — the feeling of being responsible for someone he didn’t understand, someone who might drag danger straight into his cabin. He didn’t want this. Not again. Not after what happened last time. The memory flickered, sharp and unwelcome, and he shoved it down.

He leaned closer. “Who?”

She tried to shake her head, but pain locked her in place. Panic flashed across her face. “If they find me… he’ll kill me.”

Her strength drained as quickly as it had flared. Her grip loosened, her eyes fluttering shut as exhaustion pulled her under again.

Jake stayed kneeling beside her, watching the shallow rise and fall of her chest. Only when he was sure she was stable did he stand.

Doc checked her IV line, his expression tight. “We still don’t know who’s coming for her.”

Jake looked at the woman again — pale, fragile, terrified even in unconsciousness.

“We will,” he said quietly. “When she wakes up again.”