Chapter 3

“Come closer and try to put your elbows on the ice.”

The man continued to stare and his dark lashes were turning whiter by the second. Damn, he needed out of the cold. Otho crawled closer, listening to the ice as he did. His heart was hammering in his throat. If he went through the ice, he would curse himself his entire afterlife—if there was one.

“Come on.” Desperation seeped into his voice. Reaching out, he realized he was still clutching his phone. Dropping it, it slid over the ice closer to the hole. The man looked at the moving phone, his brows furrowed.

“Here, don’t mind the phone, come to me.”

The man turned back to him, his entire body quaking in the water, making it lick at the ice. With a sloshing sound, he raised an arm over the surface, his hand as pale as the snow, and tried to heave himself up. He failed and slid back into the black water. Otho held his breath and forced himself forward. He curled his fingers around the man’s wrist and pulled.