EMMA
I woke to silence.
Not the peaceful kind—the kind that presses against your ears until you realize something is wrong.
For a moment, I lay still in the narrow bed of my cabin, staring at the wooden ceiling beams, listening. The estate was usually alive by dawn. Engines starting. Boots crunching over gravel. Laughter drifting through the cold air like smoke.
This morning, there was nothing.
I pushed myself upright, a chill crawling over my skin that had nothing to do with the winter air seeping through the walls. Pulling on a thick sweater, I stepped outside.
The courtyard was empty.
No bikers clustered around the fire pit. No one arguing over coffee. No music humming faintly from the main lodge. Even the wind felt hesitant, whispering instead of roaring.
My stomach tightened.
