Read Chapter 24: The Alpine Storm

The storm didn't so much arrive as descend, a white fist slamming against the lodge’s timber frame. Luc had been in the generator shed, checking the fuel reserves, when the first gust hit, rattling the corrugated metal like a snare drum. He’d made it back to the main building with his hood lashed against his face, ice crystals scoring his cheeks like sandpaper.

By nightfall, the world beyond the windows had vanished. There was no moon, no stars, no ridgeline—just an endless, churning void of snow and wind that made the lodge feel like a ship adrift on a frozen sea. The temperature inside began to drop almost immediately.

Selene, the resort manager, was the first to notice. She ran her fingers along the wall near the thermostat, frowning. “The heat’s not cycling. The backup boiler must have—wait, no.” She flipped a switch. Nothing. “The main line’s dead. We’re running on reserve only.”

Luc stepped into the common room, stamping snow from his boots. The fire in the great stone hearth was already burning low, and the guests had clustered around it like shipwreck survivors—Camille on the arm of a leather sofa, Viktor standing rigid by the window, the financier Klaus nursing a whisky he wasn’t drinking. Ana was in the corner with her tablet, though her eyes were elsewhere, tracking every movement in the room.

“How long will the reserve last?” Luc asked.

Selene shook her head. “If we ration, maybe twelve hours. After that—” She gestured at the windows, at the white nothing pressing against them.

“Then we conserve,” Luc said, loud enough for everyone to hear. “One room, all body heat. We move the mattresses into the great room, we close off the upstairs, we burn the furniture if we have to. But we don’t panic.”

Viktor turned from the window. His face was pale, and the burn mark on his hand—the one Luc had noticed days ago—was livid against the white of his knuckles. “And what about the saboteur? Belmont? Or whatever his real name is. We’re supposed to huddle together like lambs while he finishes the job?”

“He’s not outside,” Luc said. “That’s the one thing we know. The storm is his enemy too. He’s in this room with us, freezing just like the rest of us.”

A silence settled over the group, thicker than the snow piling against the sills.

Luc used the enforced proximity as an opportunity. He told Selene to delegate fuel rationing to Ali, who knew the lodge’s systems better than anyone. Then he began his interviews, one by one, pulling each suspect aside into the small map room off the main hall—a cramped space with a table, a wall of topographical charts, and a compass that sat on a brass stand, its needle quivering with the lodge’s shifting heat.

First was Viktor. He came in with his arms crossed, defensive energy radiating off him like a furnace.

“You found the passport,” Viktor said before Luc could speak. “I didn’t put it there. I’ve never seen that man before in my life.”

“The man in the photo was you, or so it seemed,” Luc said carefully.

“It wasn’t. I’m not a conman. I’m a businessman. There’s a difference, and the difference is I don’t need to fake identity documents.”

Luc leaned against the map table. “You have a burn mark on your right hand. When did that happen?”

Viktor’s jaw tightened. “I told you—I burnt myself on a hot pan three days ago.”

“You also told me you don’t go near the kitchen.”

A pause. The wind howled, shaking the window frame.

“I don’t,” Viktor said. “But that doesn’t mean I’ve never cooked a meal in my life. The burn happened before this trip. I didn’t think it was relevant.”

Luc let the silence stretch, watching. Viktor’s pupils flicked to the compass on the table, then back to Luc’s face.

“You don’t believe me,” Viktor said.

“I haven’t decided yet. That’s why we’re talking.”

He dismissed Viktor with a nod, then called in Ana next.

She entered with a wariness that suggested she’d been rehearsing this conversation. She wore a high-necked sweater, her dark hair pinned back, her hands clasped in front of her.

“I know what you’re going to ask,” she said. “Where was I when Gaspard was pushed? I was in the sauna with Selene. She can vouch for me.”

“She did,” Luc said. “But she also vouched for you during the generator sabotage, and I don’t trust vouchers anymore.”

Ana’s lips thinned. “I was in the sauna because I was trying to get warm. I don’t have a motive, Luc. I came here to audit the resort’s safety systems, not to break them.”

“And the audit would have exposed corruption. If you were the one being audited—or if you were the auditor being blackmailed—you might want to stop it.”

Ana shook her head slowly, a curious half-smile on her face. “That’s a good theory. But you’re forgetting one thing.” She reached into her pocket and produced a small black device, a solid-state drive. “The audit data is encrypted and mirrored to three separate locations outside this valley. Whatever happens to me, the audit goes through. I’m not the saboteur because I have no reason to stop something I can’t stop.”

She left before Luc could respond, and he sat in the dim light of the map room, turning her words over. She was too prepared. Too smooth. Or maybe she was exactly what she claimed to be, and the killer was someone else entirely.

Klaus was next. The financier entered with the easy confidence of a man who had never once doubted his own importance. He lowered himself into the chair opposite Luc, crossing his legs.

“I assume you’ve eliminated Viktor already,” Klaus said. “His story’s too nervous for a man who’s guilty. It’s the classic tells—shifting gaze, defensive posture.”

“You’ve done this before,” Luc observed.

Klaus smiled. “I’ve sat across from enough lying executives to know the difference between guilt and fear. Viktor is frightened. He’s not crafty enough to be Belmont. Neither is Ana, for that matter. She’s too precise, too intellectual. She’d have planned better.”

“So who is it, then?” Luc asked. “You seem to have opinions about everyone.”

Klaus’s smile faded. He leaned forward, lowering his voice. “Marcel. The old one. He’s been skulking around since before the avalanche—always watching, always near the equipment when things break. And he gave you that warning, didn’t he? Trust no one. Something like that. Do you really believe a man who says that is innocent?”

Luc felt the cold knot in his stomach tighten. Klaus was right about one thing: Marcel was suspicious. But he was also the only person Luc half-trusted, the one who’d been giving him the guarded signals, the pointed looks. The idea that Marcel might be the saboteur felt wrong, but wrong didn’t mean impossible.

He sent Klaus away and sat in the darkening room, listening to the storm rage. Outside, the temperature was plunging. Inside, he heard the low murmur of voices, reduced to whispers by fear.

Then Camille appeared in the doorway, her face flushed from the cold, her breath short. “Luc. You need to come see something.”

He followed her to the utility closet near the generator shed entrance. Inside, jammed behind a water heater, was a coil of wire—the same kind used in the improvised detonator that had triggered the avalanche that had trapped them in the valley. It was new, freshly cut, not corroded.

“I found it tucked behind the junction box,” Camille said. She was shivering. “Someone’s been making bombs. Here. In the lodge.”

Luc picked up the wire, turning it over in his fingers. It was short, less than a meter, but enough to trigger a secondary charge. He looked at Camille, seeing her fear mirror his own.

“They’re not done sabotaging,” he said quietly. “They’re just waiting for the storm to end so they can finish the job.”

Camille’s eyes widened. “Then we have to get out of here before it does.”

Luc shook his head slowly. “The storm’s our only cover. If Belmont can’t move, neither can we—but when the skies clear, he’ll have a window.” He looked past her, through the frosted door toward the main room, where the others were gathered. “And that’s when he’ll strike.”

He pocketed the wire, feeling its cold weight settle against his thigh, a steel reminder that the killer was still among them, and watching.