Ryder didn't wait to see if Jim would move.

The second his father hit the floor, Ryder dropped the bat like it burned his hands and ran.

He burst out the front door into a wall of cold that stole his breath instantly. Snow covered everything—thick, deep, untouched in places—and the wind cut through his thin leather jacket like it wasn't even there.

He didn't know where he was.

He didn't even know how far Foggy Bottom was anymore.

All Ryder knew was this: if he stayed, he'd die.

So he ran.

His boots sank into the snow with every step, making it feel like he was sprinting through sand. His ribs screamed when he breathed too hard. His arm pulsed with pain every time it bounced against his side. He stumbled twice, catching himself with his good hand, swallowing down panic so it wouldn't choke him.

Keep moving, keep moving, keep moving.

Snow started falling harder as he pushed up the slope, the world turning white and blurry. His eyelashes felt wet. His fingers went numb fast. Ryder's stomach twisted as he realized how quickly cold could make you stupid.

I need shelter.

He scanned the treeline desperately until he spotted a dark opening in the rock—small, shallow, but better than nothing.

A cave.

Ryder practically crawled into it, pressing his back against the stone. It wasn't warm, but it blocked the wind. He pulled his knees up and tried to tuck into himself like he could fold the cold out of his body.

His teeth chattered violently.

His vision swam.

He didn't know when he fell asleep—only that the cold kept dragging him under like a heavy blanket he couldn't fight.

Chase's megaphone voice cut through the Lookout at exactly 7:00 a.m.

"Good morning, pups! Time to get up!"

A chorus of groans followed.

Zuma rolled over and shoved his face into his pillow. Marshall mumbled something that sounded like, "Five more minutes," then immediately tripped over his own blanket trying to stand.

Katie was already downstairs, moving quietly in the kitchen with a determined look on her face. She poured kibble into bowls like she'd done it a hundred times—hands steady even though her eyes looked tired.

When the pups finished eating, Chase stood at the bottom of the stairs, shoulders squared, voice focused.

"Alright, PAW Patrol," he said. "Today we find Ryder."

Everyone's ears perked.

Skye stepped forward first, wings lifting. "I can search from the air."

Chase nodded. "Skye, you take your helicopter and do a wide sweep."

Skye yipped. "This puppy's gotta fly!"

Chase turned to the rest. "Zuma and Rocky—you search near the water. Anything that leads out of Adventure Bay, anything along the shoreline, anything that looks like a path."

Zuma nodded. "Let's dive in."

Rocky swallowed and tried to sound brave. "Green means go."

Chase looked to the others. "Marshall, Rubble, and I will search Adventure Bay and Foggy Bottom again. We missed something yesterday. We're not missing it twice."

Rubble lifted his paw. "Rubble on the double."

Marshall puffed his chest. "I'm fired up!"

Chase glanced at Katie. "Katie... you stay here. If Ryder calls, if Mayor Goodway calls, if anything happens—you're our base."

Katie's face pinched with guilt, but she nodded. "Okay. And Chase..." she hesitated, then added softly, "Bring him home."

Chase nodded once. "We will."

"PAW Patrol is on a roll," he said, and the team launched into motion.

They searched all morning.

Skye scanned treelines and roads from above. Rocky checked bridges, trails, and abandoned spots near the docks. Zuma covered anything near the beach and cliffs, sniffing for any sign of movement.

Nothing.

No signal.

No trail.

No Ryder.

By late morning, frustration was sitting heavy in the air.

They regrouped at the Lookout for lunch, and Katie already had it ready—sandwiches for herself, treats for the pups, water lined up like she was trying to be useful in every way she could.

Chase barely tasted his food.

He kept thinking: Ryder left his pup pad on purpose.

So he planned something.

Or he was forced.

Either way... Ryder didn't want them tracking him like last time.

Which meant the truth was worse.

Miles away, Jim finally regained consciousness.

His head throbbed. His vision blurred. Rage hit him so sharp it tasted like metal.

He slammed a fist into the wall.

"Stupid kid," he hissed. Then, under his breath: "You think you can hit me and run?"

Jim shoved on his boots and jacket, grabbed his keys, and stormed outside into the fresh snow.

He froze.

Snow had fallen again overnight—heavy enough to cover any clean footprints.

The trail Ryder left was broken and messy now, erased like the mountain had decided to protect him.

Jim's face darkened.

He didn't know which way Ryder went.

And that made him angrier than anything.

So he walked.

Slow.

Scanning.

Looking for the one thing the snow couldn't hide.

Mistakes.

In the cave, Ryder woke up shivering so hard his whole body shook.

His fingers felt stiff. His lips were numb. His head was pounding, and when he tried to sit up, dizziness slammed into him.

He swallowed hard.

"I... have... to... keep... moving," he whispered, voice shaky.

He stood, legs weak, and stumbled out into the morning light.

Snow was still falling, thinner now, but the wind had teeth.

Ryder squinted up the mountain—then froze.

A figure in the distance.

Walking steadily toward the cave.

Ryder's blood ran cold.

He ducked behind a tree instantly, pressing himself against the trunk. His heart hammered so loud he swore it could give him away.

Please don't be him. Please don't be him.

The figure moved closer.

Boots. Heavy steps. Slow confidence.

Jim.

Ryder felt like he couldn't breathe.

Jim stopped at the cave entrance, scanning the ground. "Ryder," he called, voice calm in a way that was worse than yelling. "I know you're here."

Ryder squeezed his eyes shut for a second, forcing himself not to shake.

"Hiding is only going to make it worse," Jim continued, voice carrying through the trees.

Then Ryder's stomach dropped.

Jim crouched near the snow and brushed a patch aside.

Footprints—faint, but there.

Ryder's footprints.

Jim smiled like he'd won a game.

He followed the trail.

Ryder tried to run—but the snow was too deep, and his legs were too weak.

He tripped.

Jim caught up in seconds.

He grabbed Ryder by the ankle and yanked, dragging him back like Ryder weighed nothing. Ryder clawed at the snow with his good hand, trying to grip anything.

"Let go of me!" Ryder choked out, voice raw.

Jim laughed. "You really are pathetic."

He dropped Ryder hard into the snow and hauled him upright again.

Ryder tried to fight—tried to twist away—but his body didn't have it.

Not cold like this.

Not hurt like this.

Jim dragged Ryder back toward the cabin.

Ryder's breath came out in short bursts, panic and pain tangling together.

No, no, no—please—please—

Inside the cabin, Jim shoved Ryder onto the bed and tied him down fast, knots tight and cruel.

Then Jim walked to the window...

...and opened it wide.

Cold air rushed in immediately.

"That ought to keep you weak," Jim said with a laugh, and left the room, shutting the door behind him.

Ryder lay there shaking.

His clothes were damp from the snow. His skin was numb. His fingers barely worked.

He tried to pull against the ropes and felt pain flare down his arm so sharply he cried out.

He curled in on himself as much as the ropes allowed, trying to trap what little heat he had left.

Don't fall asleep, he told himself desperately.

Don't fall asleep.

On patrol, Everest's paws slowed suddenly.

She stared down at the snow.

Tracks.

Not normal ones.

They looked messy—like someone had stumbled... and then been dragged.

Everest's ears lifted, alert. "Hmm... that's weird."

Jake skied up beside her and followed her gaze. "What'd you find, girl?"

Everest pointed with her nose. "It almost looks like... a crash. Or someone fell."

Jake's expression hardened. "We should call the PAW Patrol. Just to be safe."

Everest nodded and tapped her pup tag. "Ryder, can you hear me?"

Static.

Everest frowned.

She switched channels. "Chase? Are you there?"

Chase answered immediately. "Everest, I'm here. What's going on?"

Everest's voice turned serious. "I can't reach Ryder. And Jake and I found tracks—someone was here. It looks like they were crawling... or dragged."

Chase went still on the other end. Then his voice tightened.

"...Ryder was kidnapped," Chase admitted. "We've been looking for him."

Everest's eyes widened. "Oh no."

Chase didn't wait. "Everest—don't touch anything else. Don't follow the tracks. We're on our way."

"Roger that," Everest replied.

She and Jake stayed put, guarding the trail like it was a crime scene.

"PAW Patrol to the Lookout!" Chase barked into his tag.

"Chase needs us!" the pups yelped, sprinting to the elevator.

Marshall stepped into a dog dish and went sliding, taking everyone down in one messy pile.

"I guess I bowled you over," Marshall groaned.

Even in panic, they laughed—because sometimes you needed to.

Gear on. Pup packs locked. Vehicles ready.

They reached Everest and Jake within minutes.

Chase jumped out first and sniffed the air.

His entire body went rigid.

He turned slowly, eyes widening.

"I... I can smell him," Chase whispered.

Skye's ears shot up. "Ryder?"

Chase nodded, voice shaking. "Ryder was here. This way."

They followed Chase through the trees until they saw the cabin.

Chase lifted a paw, signaling stop.

They all crouched low behind a snowbank, watching.

"Okay," Chase whispered, forcing himself calm. "We know Ryder is inside and he could be hurt. Marshall—be ready."

Marshall nodded hard. "I'm ready for a ruff-ruff rescue," he whispered.

Chase looked to Skye. "Skye... you're the smallest. See if you can look through the windows. Find Ryder."

Skye swallowed, then nodded. "This puppy's going to... look," she whispered, trying to keep her voice steady.

Skye crept to the nearest window and peeked into the living room.

A man was on the couch.

Big.

Boots still on.

A beer bottle in his hand.

Asleep—or pretending.

Skye's stomach turned.

She moved to the side of the cabin and found another window—one that was cracked open.

Cold air poured out.

Skye looked inside—

And her heart dropped.

Ryder was tied to the bed, shaking, face pale.

"Chase," Skye whispered urgently as she hurried back. "I found him. He's in the bedroom. He looks... really cold."

Marshall took one step forward automatically.

Chase blocked him.

"Not yet," Chase whispered, voice tight. "We have to take down his dad first. If we rush in, Ryder gets hurt. Or you do. Or both."

Marshall's eyes burned with frustration. "But—Chase, he's freezing—"

"I know," Chase whispered, the words almost breaking. "I know."

He stared at the cabin, mind racing.

He needed a plan.

Fast.

Because every second mattered now.