SNOWBOUND HEARTS: Chapter Twelve

“This feels wrong.” His words were a growl against her ear, rough and fragmented as if he was fighting an inner battle. “But at the same time, so damn right.”

Snowbound Hearts is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations, reviews, and articles.

Copyright © 2024 by Mina Beckett

Ebook ISBN: 978-1-7375127-6-9

Print ISBN: 978-1-7375127-7-6

Published by: CurtissLynn Publishing

Cover design: Shiver Shot Design

All rights reserved.

BEHIND THE WORDS

This chapter is all about tipping points. The tension between Dwight and Anna, the weight of the past, and the danger that’s been closing in—it all collides here.

Dwight has always been a protector, but with Anna, it’s different. It’s not just about duty or instinct anymore. When she reaches for him, trusts him, lets him in—he feels it. And for a man who’s spent so long keeping his emotions locked down, that’s a game-changer.

But just as one wall starts to come down, another rises. A truth neither of them can ignore is staring them in the face, forcing them to rethink everything they thought they knew. It’s shocking. It’s big. And it makes the stakes that much higher.

Then there’s the moment between them—the one that’s been building since the beginning. The tension, the push and pull, the slow-burning awareness… it all finally ignites. But this isn’t just about attraction. It’s about trust. About needing someone when the world feels like it’s spinning out of control. And for Dwight, it’s about letting himself want again.

This chapter is a turning point. Once the dust settles, nothing between them—or around them—will ever be the same.

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CHAPTER TWELVE

Anna's hand on Dwight’s felt like a fragile bird settling on a branch, delicate and light. The softness of her skin against his calloused palm sent an electrical spark through his body, awakening a long-forgotten sensation within him. Her hand felt small in his, but it held a comforting weight that anchored him in the present moment.

She exerted gentle pressure on her grip, guiding him back to the desk, but she didn’t let go of his hand. Clicking on a different folder, she drew up a video shot from what looked like the bushes and at a distance.

“What’s this?” he asked.

She paused the video. “When John started giving me the cold shoulder, I assumed there was another woman.”

“Was there?” Dwight asked.

She didn’t answer. Instead, she clicked the play button. “A week before he was killed, I followed him to this abandoned warehouse, thinking I’d catch him in the act.”

The lens focused on the man outside the warehouse. It was unmistakably Tillman. Hands in his pockets, he scanned the area nervously. Moments later, a white van pulled up beside his black Mercedes, its rear facing the warehouse doors.

Malachi emerged from the driver's side and opened the back of the van.

Heart pounding, Dwight watched as a blindfolded young woman stumbled out, wrists bound, and face contorted with fear. “Holy shit,” he whispered.

Three more women followed. All were about the same age and all blindfolded and bound at the wrists.

“Jesus, Anna,” Dwight said when the video ended.

“I know what it looks like,” she was quick to say.