He grabbed a heavy iron poker from beside the fireplace.
She stared.
“That is your plan?”
“No.”
“That’s the part you’re allowed to know.”
For some reason, the answer calmed her.
She stepped onto the stone ledge beneath the floor.
Steam surrounded her.
The mountain man followed long enough to reach behind a rock.
He pulled a lever.
A section of wall shifted inward.
The woman’s mouth fell open.
“You truly have too many secrets.”
He looked at her.
“That one is useful.”
A narrow tunnel appeared.
He handed her the lantern.
“Twenty yards in, there’s a chamber.”
“Stay there.”
She looked at him.
“That sounded like an order.”
“Request.”
She considered.
“Accepted.”
Something changed between them.
Tiny.
But real.
He began climbing back up.
She caught his hand.
He turned.
The woman looked toward the ring he still held.
“If you die, I will never forgive you.”
The mountain man stared.
“We met an hour ago.”
“Yes.”
“That seems quick.”
“I’m having a difficult night.”
A low laugh escaped him.
Then his expression softened.
“I don’t intend to die.”
“That is not a promise.”
“No.”
He looked at their joined hands.
“I don’t make promises I can’t control.”
Her chest tightened.
Her late husband had promised everything.
Then treated promises as decoration.
The mountain man promised less.
Somehow she trusted more.
She released him.
He climbed out.
The hidden wall slid closed.
Darkness surrounded her except for the lantern.
Above, boots struck floorboards.
Voices shouted.
Then silence.
A crash.
Another.
The woman gripped the lantern.
One minute.
Two.
Then a gunshot.
She flinched.
Another.
Her breath became shallow.
She thought of the mountain man’s face.
The way he had blushed after calling her shape better than his.
Ridiculous.
She barely knew him.
Yet the idea of that face gone from the world felt wrong.
She moved toward the hidden wall.
Stopped.
He had asked her to remain.
Not ordered.
Asked.
Trust, she realized, was sometimes respecting someone’s request when disobedience would make you feel more powerful.
She stayed.
Another crash.
Then a voice.
Not the mountain man.
“Where is she?”
Silence.
Then the mountain man:
“Gone.”
The woman closed her eyes.
Relief.
The attacker laughed.
“You think we’re stupid?”
The mountain man answered:
“I’m deciding.”
A heavy blow followed.
The woman almost smiled despite terror.
Then someone shouted:
“Search beneath the rugs!”
Her smile vanished.
Boots crossed directly above her.
The trapdoor creaked.