Natalie said nothing. The helicopter was already tucked away in her storage space, so there was no need to explain how they got there. When she and Cassian landed, the sky had exploded into a sea of white. The storm howled like a wild beast tearing through the dark. Snow whipped across their faces, thick and blinding. Visibility was nearly gone. The girls upstairs probably hadn't seen a thing. They exchanged uneasy glances, their fear plain. Then they started yelling toward the upper floor. "Boss! Boss! There's someone down here!" "Wake up! Get out here, now!" They shouted at the top of their lungs, gripping their machetes tight, their knees bent as if they were ready to strike. They'd been sound asleep a few minutes ago. The roar from the helicopter had bled into their dreams—until Cassian's kick against the door tore them awake. Normally, no one slept that deeply. Not in a world like this. But tonight was different. They'd slipped too far into sleep. No time to think, no time to plan—they'd just grabbed their blades and rushed out. The sight before them froze them in place. Two strangers stood there in fur coats, and three creatures bundled up so tight they couldn't tell what they were. The girls blinked. "What ... what the hell?" The scene looked strange to Natalie too. "Aren't you cold?" she asked, puzzled. The question hit them like a slap. They looked down at themselves. Sweatshirts. Thin pants. Slippers that left their toes bare and white. Their skin had gone purple, their lips trembling. "What?" one stammered. Then the cold hit them full force. They jerked in shock.They sneezed once. Then twice. Then again. Their whole bodies shook. They hugged themselves and yelled, "Oh my God, it's freezing!" "Go put something on!" They didn't hesitate. Panic replaced fear. They forgot about the intruders and bolted up the stairs, vanishing into the darkness. Cassian shut the broken door tight, checking the lock before turning back to her. "You okay? You warm enough?" Natalie smiled. "I'm fine. This coat does the job." Anyone who had ever worn real mink knew how could it could insulate. No modern jacket could compare. Her mink coat brushed against her ankles, heavy and soft like a blanket of snow. Even without her climate suit, she could handle minus four degrees easy. She slid her hand down the smooth fur. Maybe it was cruel, but warmth was worth everything now. In this world, people would kill for what she wore. During Frostfall, people burned everything just to live another day. Dressers, floors, doors—if it caught fire, it was fuel. She remembered the last life she'd lived, trapped in a small room trying to stay alive with a fire that almost poisoned her. Her body had been covered in frostbite. Outside, Lillian and Rosalie had strutted around in perfect fur coats, their smug faces glowing. Never again. She swore she would never feel that cold again. Cassian noticed her fingers lingering on the coat. He took off his gloves, slipped them into his pocket, and stepped closer. He brushed his bare fingers across her cheek. "Your skin's soft. Your nose is red. I should've noticed sooner. Next time, wear a scarf, okay?" Natalie chuckled softly. She was about to reply when a voice floated down the stairs, playful and mocking. "Well, look at this. A handsome man and his pretty girl. You two looking for a room?" They turned toward the sound. A woman in her thirties glided down the steps, holding a candle that flickered over her striking face. Her hips swayed as if she were walking down a runway instead of an icy staircase. Behind her came a short, greasy-looking man with shifty eyes. Natalie stared at the woman, puzzled. How could someone look that graceful in layers of thick clothing? She was wrapped up like a quilt, yet her curves still moved like waves beneath the fabric. That took more than luck. It took a perfect body—and she had one. And she had to move in a way that could nearly bend the rules of physics. She managed that too. Still, it didn't feel cheap. The way she moved was natural and mesmerizing. Even with her face pale from the cold, she looked like something carved from moonlight and fire. Natalie couldn't take her eyes off her. Cassian didn't even blink. "You run this place?" he asked coolly. "More or less," the woman said with a slow smile. "The last owner froze to death during the Great Heat. My husband and I took over. We let travelers stay here sometimes." She gave them a sly look, her eyes sliding over their clothes. "Of course, we take food as payment. Nothing's free anymore." Natalie stayed silent. Something about her wasn't right. She was stunning, yes—but that was the problem. It had been almost three years since the world fell apart. No one looked like that anymore. Everyone was thin, worn out, and starving. But this woman? She looked untouched. Smooth skin. Perfect figure. Like hunger had never laid a hand on her.