Chapter 1: Skylar’s Return

Back when I was a hiking guide in Maple Bluff, my cousin never let me forget how useless he thought I was. He’d nudge me and say, “Women are the best thing in the world. Without women, what’s the point of living? You ever seen a guy survive out here without a woman to impress? Didn’t think so.”

That night, the stars over Maple Bluff were sharp and cold, the kind that make you feel like you could reach out and grab one. My cousin strutted off toward the tents, that lopsided grin plastered on his face like he’d just won the jackpot. He finally got his wish, slipping into a tent with four women while the rest of the campsite buzzed with laughter and the distant hum of an ATV.

Even on nights like that, the air felt thinner and every sound was crisper—the crackle of the fire, the clang of bottles, the American flag flapping on the porch. My cousin always crowed about women being life’s reason, but I noticed how he’d end up alone at the campfire, boots off, staring into the flames like he’d lost something he couldn’t name.

After we saw the tourists off, my cousin was seething. He kicked a lawn chair so hard it scraped across the porch. “This time, the mark was way too careful. Three days, two nights—not a single chance to make a move.”

He spat the words, pacing. “She brought a satellite phone, a taser, a multitool—hell, she even patched up her own blisters. Wouldn’t let anyone near her snacks, kept away from cliffs, barely talked to us. Slept with a motion alarm clipped to her bag. Five of us—three tourists, me, and my cousin—but she never let her guard down.”

My cousin stabbed the dirt with his pocketknife, over and over. Since we started guiding, we’d never been played like that.

Turns out, not all women are naive or easy to corner. All we could do was watch as she left, head high. The two male tourists glared at us with open disgust, like we’d tracked mud into their lives and expected thanks.

The porch still smelled like last week’s barbecue, and the breeze kept tugging at my cousin’s hoodie. He looked more rattled than I’d ever seen him, pride stinging like a wasp. I leaned back against the screen door, feeling the old wood scratch my jeans, wondering if maybe—for once—we’d run up against someone smarter than us. The guilt clung to me, thick as summer air.

“We can head out this afternoon. Get over here now.” My cousin snapped his phone shut.

“Who was that?” I asked.

“Director Neal’s group. They’re moving up to today.”

There’s supposed to be a break between groups—time to rest, hit Walmart, double-check supplies. But today, we barely made it back to Maple Bluff before noon. My cousin was obsessed, itching for the next mark. I started running through the gear list, but all I could see was that woman’s face. What was her name? Skylar.

The name stuck behind my eyes, flickering every time I blinked. Skylar. Even as I checked off granola bars and iodine tablets, I couldn’t shake her image—the way she shouldered her pack, cool and untouchable, vanishing down the trail. My cousin barked orders, but my mind kept replaying every missed move, every little failure. It felt like I was one step behind in a game I thought I’d already mastered.

“Hey, guide.”

When I turned, Skylar was standing at the edge of the porch.

Her boots crunched on the porch steps, and she didn’t wait for an invitation—just scooped up the lawn chair, spun it around, and sat like she owned the place. Her eyes were ice-cold, like we were gum stuck to her boot.

She wore a battered denim jacket, her boots still caked with trail dust. She didn’t care what we thought—her whole posture dared us to challenge her. The way she stared, the air felt colder, like she was here to remind us just how small we really were.

“The first day, you tried to split my snacks, acting like it was sharing. The second day, you dragged out the hike, forced us to camp at Big Rock—hoping the cliffs and wild animals would make me depend on you. Third day, you led me off-trail into a gully full of thorns. If I’d fallen, I’d be at your mercy.”

My cousin’s ears twitched, his tell when he was nervous. He tapped his knee, pretending calm, but sweat was starting to bead at his hairline. He fiddled with his keys, hands shaking just enough to notice.

“Tell me I’m wrong, if you can.”

My mouth went dry. Every trick she named, I saw it play out in my head, uglier than I remembered. I couldn’t meet her eyes. She was the target, the one who should’ve been easy—laughing at the first camp, sharing snacks, falling behind and needing help. But Skylar never played along. It was like I’d spun a lie, and she saw through it before I even finished.

“What are you getting at?” my cousin said, trying to sound tough.

Skylar smiled, but it was just a twist—no warmth, just the kind of look a cop gives when they already know you’re guilty. My skin prickled.

“Do you still want to sleep with me now?” she asked, blunt as a hammer.

My cousin blinked, mouth open. The only sound was the creak of the porch swing. Her words dropped between us, heavy and dangerous.

“As long as you help me with one thing,” she said, calm as ever.

“What thing?”

“I just heard you say there’s a group this afternoon. Take me with you. I want to watch your operation.” Skylar looked straight at me, like saying no wasn’t even an option. “If you do, I’ll give you anything you want. How about it? This is what you want anyway. Just let me watch, and you lose nothing.”

Her tone was so matter-of-fact, so sure. It was like she was offering a business deal, no strings, just terms. For a second, I wondered what it would feel like to have that kind of power—to flip the script with nothing but words.

“Why?” I asked.

She stared at me, then said, “Do you remember Pete? Your partner.” She glanced up at the sky. “I’m his fiancée.”