35. COLD LUST

MIA’S POV. Later that evening, the storm had quieted just barely. The wind still howled, but not as angrily as in the morning. The world outside the frosted windows was buried deep in white. Everything was still. The hotel was silent, like the hotel itself was holding its breath. I stepped out of my room. The air was cold enough that I could see my breath. My suite was worth it. The heater, thick blankets, and peace but the silence of the corridor now felt unnerving. I walked a little, tugging the sleeve of my sweater over my fingers. Then I stopped as I spotted Mr Hale’s door open. Just slightly. I frowned. The hotel was dead quiet. Not a single voice, not even a creak of movement from another guest. I glanced up and down the hallway. It was empty. Just rows of identical doors, soft yellow lights, and that open crack staring at me like an invitation. “Seriously?” I muttered under my breath. But curiosity has always been my fatal flaw. I looked around one last time, then took a few c