Chapter Thirty Four
Tipping Point
Rachel Williams
David’s forearm crushes into Bishop’s throat, pinning him against the rock. Bishop’s boots scrape for leverage, his breath strangled, his ribs already bruised from the last hit. I can see the pain in his eyes.
David leans in, voice low and triumphant. “She’s next.”
Something inside me snaps.
Not fear. Resolve.
I move.
I don’t shout. I don’t warn him. I don’t hesitate. I launch myself forward, grabbing the first thing my hand touches; a jagged rock, and swing it with every ounce of strength left in my body.
It connects with David’s shoulder.
He jerks, the blow staggering him just enough that his grip on Bishop slips. Bishop sucks in a ragged breath, twisting sideways, trying to break free.
David snarls, turning on me with a fury that makes the air feel thinner. “You stupid-”
I swing again.
This time he catches my wrist mid-arc, fingers digging into my skin hard enough to bruise. He yanks me forward, off balance, dragging me toward him.
Bishop reacts instantly.
Even half-choked, half-collapsed, he moves like a soldier; fast, precise, lethal. He grabs David’s arm, twisting it away from me, forcing David to release my wrist.
David shifts his weight, slamming his elbow into Bishop’s ribs. Bishop grunts, stumbling. David uses the opening, tackling him hard, driving them both to the ground.
They hit the shale with a sickening crack.
David ends up on top.
His hands go straight for Bishop’s throat again.
I scramble forward, heart pounding, vision tunneling. Bishop’s face is turning red, his breath strangled, his fingers clawing at David’s grip.
I grab David’s hair, yanking backward with everything I have.
He roars, releasing Bishop just long enough to swing at me. I duck, barely avoiding the blow, falling to my knees on the uneven rock.
Bishop surges upward, tackling David off me, slamming him into the ridge wall. They grapple, rolling, fists flying, boots scraping, both fighting with the kind of desperation that only comes when death is close enough to taste.
David gets a knee into Bishop’s stomach. Bishop gets an elbow into David’s jaw. David grabs Bishop’s shirt. Bishop grabs David’s throat.
They’re evenly matched now; David’s rage against Bishop’s training.
But David is still stronger.
He shoves Bishop backward, pinning him again, his hand rising for a killing blow.
I don’t think.
I throw myself at David’s back, arms locking around his shoulders, pulling with everything I have.
He jerks, losing balance.
Bishop drives his fist upward into David’s ribs.
David collapses sideways, gasping.
Bishop grabs my arm, pulling me behind him, shielding me with his body even as he struggles to breathe.
“Stay with me,” he rasps.
I nod, breath shaking.
David pushes himself up, fury blazing in his eyes.
This isn’t over.
Not yet.
David lunges again, wild, and desperate, and Bishop meets him head-on. They crash together in a brutal tangle of fists and elbows, boots scraping against loose shale. Bishop’s still recovering from the chokehold; his breaths are ragged, his ribs screaming every time he twists. But he fights anyway.
He fights like a man who refuses to die.
David slams Bishop into the rock wall, trying to pin him again, trying to get his hands around Bishop’s throat. Bishop blocks the grab, twisting David’s wrist hard enough to make him grunt. He drives his knee into David’s stomach, forcing him back a step.
But David is relentless.
He swings, catching Bishop across the jaw. Bishop stumbles, vision flashing. David sees the opening and charges, tackling him low, driving them both toward the cliffside.
My heart stops.
“Bishop!”
He digs his boots into the ground, stopping the slide just inches from the drop. David claws at him, trying to shove him over, trying to finish what he started.
Bishop roars, shoving back, flipping their positions. David hits the ground hard, but he rolls, scrambling up, grabbing a fistful of Bishop’s jacket and yanking him forward again.
They’re too close to the edge. Too close to losing everything.
I move.
I sprint toward them, grabbing the same jagged rock I used before. David sees me coming and snarls, twisting Bishop between us like a shield.
But Bishop anticipates it.
He shifts his weight, breaking David’s grip, slamming his forearm into David’s chest. David stumbles backward, just a foot, but it’s enough.
“Rachel now!” Bishop shouts.
I don’t hesitate.
I swing the rock with every ounce of strength left in my body, aiming for the side of David’s head.
It connects.
A sickening crack echoes across the ridge.
David’s eyes go wide in shock and fury, his balance gone. He reaches out, grabbing at air.
His heel slips on the shale.
He teeters.
And then he goes over.
His scream tears through the trees as he falls, disappearing into the shadows below, swallowed by the forest he thought he owned.
Silence crashes down.
My breath shakes. My hands tremble. The rock drops from my fingers.
Bishop turns to me, chest heaving, eyes fierce and terrified all at once. He grabs my shoulders, pulling me close, grounding me.
“You saved my life,” he says, voice rough.
I swallow hard. “He was going to kill you.”
“And you stopped him.”
His forehead presses to mine, just for a moment in raw, desperate relief.
But the moment doesn’t last.
A scream echoes from below.
Beth.
She saw. She knows. And she’s coming.
Bishop pulls me behind him, already scanning the ridge, already shifting into the next fight.
“We’re not done,” he says.
And he’s right.
David is gone.
But Beth is still out there.