Chapter 50
Elena's POV
The commercial ski resort buzzed with crowds—families dragging rental equipment, teenagers shouting over pop music from the lodge speakers, couples fumbling with lift tickets. The air smelled like overpriced hot chocolate and sunscreen.
I stood near the equipment booth, watching Damon help Scarlett into her boots.
"These are so tight," she whined, gripping his shoulder. "Can you check the buckles?"
He knelt in front of her without hesitation.
I looked away.
The moment we'd stepped onto the snow, Scarlett had stumbled—arms flailing, a little shriek as she grabbed Damon. "Oh my God, it's so slippery! I can barely stand!"
He'd caught her waist, steadying her with both hands. "Easy. You'll get the hang of it."
She'd laughed, pressing closer. "Then you'll have to hold me the whole time."
I'd turned and started buckling my own boots.
Now, fully geared, I watched them shuffle toward the beginner slope. Damon explained weight distribution, his voice patient. Scarlett kept leaning into him, giggling whenever she "lost balance."
I adjusted my goggles and headed the opposite direction.
"Elena?" Damon called.
I turned halfway. "I'm going to do a few runs. You two take your time."
"Wait, don't you want to—"
"I'll catch up later." My voice came out flat. I didn't wait for his response.
---
The intermediate slope was quieter. I pushed off, letting gravity take over, and the cold wind bit my face. For a few seconds, there was nothing but speed and the rush of blood in my ears.
It felt good. Empty in a clean way.
I slowed near pine trees and pulled out my phone.
To Lila: You still at the resort?
The response came a minute later.
Lila: Different location—handling work stuff. Swamped. Everything okay?
Me: Yeah. Just bored.
Lila: Hang in there. I'll text when I'm free.
I pocketed the phone and sat on a snowbank, knees drawn up. Around me, strangers carved past in bright jackets, their laughter distant.
I'd never felt this alone in a crowd before.
A figure appeared in my mind—someone always filled with loneliness and desolation.
Caleb.
He'd always been alone. I'd never seen him with friends, never seen anyone stand up for him when Damon and his crew bullied him.
But even then, even when they cornered him in hallways or tore up his books, he never backed down. His spine stayed straight. He never skipped class, never gave them the satisfaction of seeing him break.
I couldn't do that. I didn't have that kind of strength.
My thoughts drifted suddenly to two nights ago—him pressing me down, his hand gripping my waist—
Heat flooded my face. I shook my head hard and turned to ski back.
---
When I returned to the main area, Damon and Scarlett were near the beginner slope entrance, tangled together like they'd forgotten other people existed.
Scarlett was pouting. "I don't want the poles. I've fallen twice already!"
Damon looked up as I approached. "Elena. Perfect timing."
I stopped a few feet away.
"Can you help me teach her?" he asked. "I want to try the intermediate run."
Before I could answer, Scarlett cut in. "I know you're annoyed with me. It's fine. Go ski. I'll figure it out."
Her tone was sugary. Fake.
I met her eyes. "I don't mind."
Damon hesitated, glancing between us. Then he nodded. "Thanks. I'll be quick."
He skied toward the lift.
The second he was gone, Scarlett's expression changed.
The sweetness drained. Her posture straightened, and she looked at me with boredom.
"So," she said. "Shall we?"
---
We moved at glacial pace across the flat section. Scarlett didn't struggle nearly as much as she had with Damon watching.
"Should I get you an instructor?" I offered.
"No thanks." She waved dismissively. "Instructors stress me out. I hate being told what to do."
I said nothing.
We reached a slope near evergreens. Scarlett stopped, pulling off her goggles.
"Are you still upset about what Damon said at the restaurant?" she asked.
"No. I understand." The words tasted like ash.
"Do you?" She tilted her head. "Because Damon said you'd understand, but I wasn't sure."
"It's fine."
She smiled faintly. "You know, he talks about you a lot. How patient you are. How you never complain." Her voice softened into something pitying. "But that's not love, Elena."
My chest tightened.
"I'm not trying to be cruel," she continued. "I just think you should know. Damon's kind to everyone. It doesn't mean anything."
I forced myself to meet her gaze. "I understand."
For a moment, something flickered in her expression. Not guilt.
Hunger.
"I wasn't always like this," she said quietly. "Before I met him, I was... nothing. Just surviving. But he made me feel alive again." Her eyes grew bright, feverish. "So I can't lose him. Do you understand? I can't."
The air felt too thin.
"I'm sorry, Elena."
I blinked. "For what?"
"Don't hate me for this."
Before I could process her words, she let go of my hand—no, not my hand.
I realized with a jolt that she'd been holding me this whole time.
Her body tilted backward.
She released her poles.
Her arms spread wide as she fell, tumbling down the slope until she slammed into a pine tree with a sickening thud.
Screams erupted around us.
"Someone call ski patrol!"
"She's not moving!"
I stood frozen at the top of the slope, staring down at Scarlett's crumpled form.
I watched the chaos unfold below.
Ski patrol rushed down with a stretcher. Scarlett lay crumpled against the pine tree, her left arm cradled against her chest, face pale as the snow around her. Even from this distance, I could hear her sobbing—short, gasping sounds that carried in the cold air.
By the time I reached the bottom, they'd loaded Scarlett onto the stretcher. Her face was twisted in pain, tears streaming down her cheeks. "It hurts," she whimpered. "God, it hurts so much."
Damon appeared, running from the intermediate slope, his face flushed from exertion or panic—I couldn't tell which. "What the hell happened?"
He dropped to his knees beside the stretcher, grabbing her uninjured hand. The gesture was automatic, protective. I might as well have been invisible.
"Damon." Scarlett's voice broke. "I'm sorry. I tried to—I couldn't—"
His tone was almost tender. "The doctor's coming. You're going to be fine. You know how fast we heal."
The pack physician arrived, a stern-faced woman who immediately began examining Scarlett's injuries. Her verdict was swift: "Left humerus fracture with slight displacement, possible scapula impact, extensive bruising on the back. Even with enhanced healing, this needs proper treatment. We need to get her to the medical center."
They lifted the stretcher. Damon stood, still gripping Scarlett's hand, and climbed into the medical van without a backward glance. I stood in the snow, watching the doors slam shut. The engine started. Through the windows, I could make out Damon's silhouette bent over Scarlett, his hand still clasped in hers.
The van pulled away. I was alone.
Around me, other skiers continued their runs. Don't hate me for this. Scarlett's words echoed in my head as I started walking toward the medical center.