Snow had begun falling before Reyna Lawson reached Blackpine Chalet, dusting the narrow mountain road in white and swallowing the pine-covered peaks behind a veil of gray. The chalet looked exactly like the photographs—isolated, luxurious, and impossibly peaceful. Warm light glowed through its towering windows, smoke curled from the stone chimney, and beyond the wraparound deck, the mountains disappeared into the growing storm. There was only one problem. Someone was already inside. Reyna opened the door to find three strangers occupying the retreat she had rented for herself. A tall, broad-shouldered man with long dark hair stood near the windows, studying the worsening weather with military focus. A sun-tanned athlete lounged beside the kitchen island as though the unexpected company amused him. Near the fireplace, an elegant brunette calmly compared four identical reservation confirmations. Every one of them had booked the chalet for the same dates. Before anyone could decide who belonged there, all four phones sounded with the same emergency warning. SEVERE WINTER STORM. WHITEOUT CONDITIONS IMMINENT. BLACKPINE MOUNTAIN ROAD CLOSED. SHELTER IN PLACE. Wind struck the chalet hard enough to rattle the windows. The lights flickered once. Then twice. Outside, fresh snow rapidly buried the vehicles—and the only road leading back down the mountain vanished from sight. Four strangers. Two bedrooms. No cell service. No way out. What was meant to be Reyna’s private escape had just become something else entirely.