Chapter 4
In other words, if I saved him, I could break free from Dennis forever—escape this suffocating life and start over somewhere no one knew me.
"Alright," I heard myself say, my voice trembling. "I'll take it."
To survive, for a chance at freedom, I’d brave more than an avalanche; I’d walk through the very gates of hell.
From that day on, I began preparing for the journey to the Northern Snow Peaks three months later.
Secretly, I enrolled in professional mountaineering and wilderness survival courses, pushing through grueling daily training. In just three short months, that pampered heir who couldn't lift a finger was reborn.
Dennis seemed to notice the change, but wrote it off as an obsession with extreme sports, paying it little mind.
He even hesitated—then agreed—when I suggested we go skiing together at the Northern Snow Peaks.
On the day of departure, I stood before the full-length mirror, staring at the stranger looking back: skin tanned a deep honey, eyes sharp with resolve.
"Bruce." Dennis’s voice came from the doorway.
I turned. There he stood in black ski gear, the sleek lines making him look taller, more imposing.
He studied me, a slight frown creasing his brow. "You seem different somehow."
My heart clenched. I forced a smile. "Really? Must be all that time I've spent running wild outside."
He said nothing more, just walked over and, as usual, zipped up my jacket for me.
This time, I didn't pull away.
Tilting my head back, I looked up at his handsome face so close to mine, only one thought echoing in my mind: *Dennis, this is the last time I'll save you. The only time.*
After this, we’ll be even.
The Northern Snow Peaks stretched before us—a breathtaking sweep of silver and white, beautiful and deadly.
Besides the two of us, our group included a few of Dennis’s friends. Among them, Ryan was cheerful, the only one who ever really talked to me.
On the ski lift, Ryan grinned over. "Bruce, first time on a professional slope like this? Nervous?"
I shook my head, but my gaze drifted past him to Dennis sitting across from us.
He was polishing his ski goggles, his profile sharp and flawless.
He seemed to sense my stare and looked up. Our eyes met through the thin veil of mist.
I quickly glanced away, my heart hammering.
**[System Warning: Avalanche predicted in forty-three minutes in Zone C-3. Host, prepare yourself.]**
Zone C-3. The very advanced run we were headed toward.
As we stepped off the lift, a biting wind whipped snow into our faces.
Dennis adjusted my wind mask, his voice muffled by the gale. "Stay close. Don't wander off."
I nodded, tightening my grip on my ski poles.
Everything unfolded exactly as the System predicted.
Dennis was a natural, carving elegant arcs down the slope like a black hawk in flight.
Pushing myself to the limit, I clung to his trail.
Skiers thinned out around us. Wind and snow grew fiercer.
**[Countdown: Ten, nine, eight…]**
My heart hammered in my throat.
**[Three, two, one!]**
The moment the System fell silent, a violent tremor shuddered through the snow beneath my feet—followed by a thunderous roar echoing from the distant peak.
"Avalanche!" someone screamed.
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