Chapter 41
RAPHAEL
Her location disappeared halfway up the road.
One moment, a steady point on the map.
The next—Gone.
Signal lost.
My grip tightened on the wheel. No. Not like this.
I pushed the car harder than I should, tires slipping on the flooded road as I followed the last known direction. The trees closed in, branches whipping in the wind, rain hammering down hard enough to blur everything into gray.
I stopped when the road became impassable.
I didn't hesitate. I got out and went on foot.
“Belle!”
My voice cut into the storm, swallowed almost instantly.
I kept moving.
“Belle!”
The ground is unstable beneath me, mud shifting with every step, water running in small streams between roots and rocks. I barely register it.
I keep calling her name over and over because silence is unacceptable.
Because silence is what comes before loss.
Then I see it.
Her van. It crashed into a tree, headlights still cutting through the rain at a crooked angle.
My heart dropped. She had to be here.
I moved faster, rounding the front of the vehicle, scanning for any sign—
“Belle!”
Nothing.
No answer.
The dread rose, cold and sharp. I turned toward the tree line.
“Belle!”
This time— A voice answered.
“Raph!”
Relief hit so hard it nearly staggered me.
“I’m here!” she called again.
And then—
Another voice. I was older and gentler.
“Pumpkin? Where’d you go?”
Her father.
I ran. Branches snapped underfoot as I pushed through the trees toward the sound. I broke through the last line of brush and saw him.
The older man was on the ground near the edge of the embankment, half in the mud, reaching weakly toward the drop like something was just out of his grasp.
My stomach dropped.
No.
No, no, no—
Not again.
I close the distance in seconds, dropping to my knees beside him, gripping his shoulder firmly.
“Sir,” I said sharply. “You need to stay still.”
He startled, looking at me with confusion.
“That’s where it goes,” he insists, gesturing weakly toward the edge. “I just have to—”
“No.” My voice was firm. “You are not going anywhere.”
His balance was wrong. The mud was shifting.
One wrong move and—
No.
I adjusted my grip, anchoring him away from the edge, pulling him back inch by inch until he is no longer in immediate danger.
My pulse thundered in my ears.
“Raph!”
Her voice was lower, below.
I turned sharply.
And there—
Down the embankment—
I saw her. She was soaked and mud-streaked, but very much alive. Relief hit like a punch to the gut.
I secured her father first, steadying him, anchoring him away from the edge, guiding him back toward a tree where the ground holds. He protested softly, confused, still reaching for something that no longer exists.
“It’s alright,” I told him, voice low but firm. “Stay here.”
Then I turned to her.
I slid down the embankment without grace, boots slipping in the mud as I made my way to where she was.
“Belle.”
Up close, she looked worse.
Soaked through. Mud streaked across her face and hands. Breathing too fast. One leg held just slightly wrong, but she’s here.
“I’m okay,” she said quickly, like she knew exactly what I was thinking. “My knee’s just—”
I didn’t let her finish. I pulled her into me. She made a small sound of surprise before her arms came up around me just as tightly.
We were both soaked, cold, and covered in mud.
I did not care. For a moment, I allowed myself to feel the relief. I got lost in the absolute, overwhelming certainty that I was not too late. Not this time.
“Do not ever do that again,” I murmured into her hair, my voice rougher than I intended.
She huffed out a shaky breath against my chest.
I pulled back just enough to look at her.
“Can you stand?”
“Yes,” she says. “It’s just a tweak.”
I didn't believe her entirely, but we do not have the luxury of debate.
“Lean on me.”
I shifted her weight carefully, one arm braced around her waist as I guided her up the slope. She winced once but didn't complain.
We reached her father together.
He looked at her and smiled, relief softening his confusion.
“There you are,” he said.
“I’m here,” she answered gently.
I helped him to his feet, keeping a steady hold on him as well. Two points of balance. Two people to get out of a storm. I could do this.
The walk back to the car was slow, every step deliberate.
Rain continued to fall, relentlessly, but it no longer felt like something that would take from me.
When we reached my car, I got them inside first.
Her father was in the back seat. Belle was in the front. Only once they are both secured did I allow myself a breath.
Then I moved around to the driver’s side and got in.
The engine started, and warm air began to push into space. The mud dripped off us as the rain still continued to hammer the windshield.
Belle’s hand found mine. It may have been cold and shaking, but she was alive.
I tightened my grip around hers.
“We’re going home,” I said, like a promise I intend to keep.