In an instant, the skier’s board sent a wave of snow soaring half as tall as a man.
It crashed down the mountainside like a monstrous tidal wave, chasing after the skiers and surging straight toward the people below.
Zinnia stood frozen, unable to move a muscle as she watched the avalanche rush toward her.
It felt as if every drop of blood in her veins had turned to ice, frozen by the snow suspended in midair.
She wanted to run, but her legs were weighted, as if trapped deep beneath the snow, refusing to budge.
All she could see was blinding white.
It was just like that day. She had stood in the snow, distant cries for help echoing all around, the roar of a white wave crashing toward her, unstoppable.
In a heartbeat, she’d been buried alive.
Her entire body began to shake violently.
It felt as if her blood had crystallized with frost, circulating icy cold through her veins, leaving her shivering uncontrollably.
She saw herself again beneath the snow—helpless, desperate.
In her ears, Landon’s cold reply echoed, sharp with reproach and impatience.
“So that’s it… That’s what it is…”
She realized she’d never truly escaped that terror.
She’d only managed to bury it deep, lying to herself that it was gone.
Now, she was cold, and scared.
“Help…”
Her vision darkened, and then even her voice failed her.
Her trembling grew worse, so intense she couldn’t tell if it was from fear or the cold.
By now, Landon had noticed something was terribly wrong.
“Zinnia, what’s going on? Why are you shaking so badly?”
His face went ashen. He reached out, pressing a hand to her cheek, calling her name loudly at her ear.
“Zinnia? Zinnia?”
But Zinnia seemed lost, cut off from the world by some distant, Norwegian blizzard—unable to hear a thing.
Her face, hidden behind her goggles, was deathly pale, drained of all color.
Seeing her unresponsive and trembling even harder, Landon’s panic mounted.
He kicked off his skis, wrapped Zinnia in his arms, and called her name over and over.
“Zinnia, talk to me—what’s wrong?”



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