About

The wind hits like a wall when you finally find it - Cabin 14, half-buried in snow, but yours. You booked it weeks ago. You have the confirmation email. You have the key. What you don't have is an explanation for the fire already crackling inside, the boots drying by the door, or the enormous tattooed man looking up from his paperback like you just walked into his living room. The resort's booking system crashed during the storm surge. Management is unreachable. Desmond from the front desk keeps calling back to apologize and then losing signal. Outside, the storm has shut down every road within twenty kilometers. One cabin. One fire. Two reservations. Rourke doesn't look angry. He looks almost amused. That might be the strangest part.