Chapter 3 #3
Virgil glanced up. “Eden. Come in. We’re going over logistics.”
She stepped into the room, acutely aware of Teague’s stillness. His green eyes flicked up for a half second—long enough for something to pass between them—before returning to the map.
Like it held all the answers he needed.
Like she wasn’t even there.
Charming.
Eden stopped by the table and sipped her coffee, letting the burn ground her. “Any updates?”
Virgil gestured to the marks. “With this much to cover, we need two search teams. Teague will lead one. Liam will lead the other—he made that decision last night. And Xander has agreed to help.” He nodded toward the wall.
Sure enough, Xander leaned against the wall, partly shadowed, his blond hair tucked under his cap as he nursed a steaming cup of coffee. He lifted his chin in greeting.
“Noah’s anxious to get out there too, but he’s not a hundred percent yet, so he’ll help you run communications.” Virgil sent her a slight smirk. “I know you can handle it alone, but if I didn’t assign him somewhere, the guy would drive us all crazy.”
Made sense. But it also made her role somewhat…redundant. “But four isn’t really enough for two teams.”
“We’re working on that. We’ve narrowed it down to two main clusters of potential sites. Teague will take these with Marcus.” Virgil pointed to four marks clustered east of their position. “Liam takes his group to these.” He pointed to a set of marks southeast of where Teague would go.
Eden’s stomach dropped.
More people at risk. And Teague still going out there with Marcus—just the two of them, alone in the backcountry, with nothing but rope and rock between them and a thousand-foot fall.
Absolutely not.
“You can’t send them out in teams of two.” The words came out sharper than intended. “If there’s an injury or—”
“I want teams of four.” Virgil rubbed the back of his neck, the gesture weary.
Defeated. “Problem is, we need more climbers. Jake’s being reassigned to Arches and leaving tonight—he’s the only staff with climbing experience besides the backcountry team.
We’re stretched thin. I know I said this isn’t an emergency, but I have people breathing down my neck to get the search done. ”
Marcus looked up. “What about outside help? Professional climbers with search and rescue experience?”
Virgil shook his head. “Other parks are maxed out. And we’d need people we trust. This situation’s already volatile. Adding strangers…”
Liam’s voice came from the doorway. “Most of my climbing buddies are still in Europe.” He stepped into the room with Nimue beside him, her dark hair damp. “Anyone else know of anyone? Friends, contacts—anyone with the right skills?”
The question hung in the air.
Eden glanced at Teague—waiting for him to say something. To look at her. To acknowledge what they both knew.
That she had the skills. The training. The experience they needed.
But Teague kept his eyes on the map, his jaw working beneath that trimmed beard.
He wasn’t going to out her. Wasn’t going to volunteer her secret without permission.
She didn’t know if that made it better or worse.
Xander stepped forward from the wall. “How many are you thinking?”
Virgil nodded. “We need at least two more climbers for safety. Ideally four.”
Silence stretched, uncomfortable and heavy.
Eden’s heart hammered. This was insane. She was done climbing. Done with technical routes and exposure and the gut-wrenching terror of watching someone fall.
Landon’s face flashed through her mind. His smile as he walked out the door that last morning. Don’t worry, babe. I’ll be careful. The call from Kyle, his voice breaking. The nightmare weeks that followed—the funeral, his empty apartment, the way the world turned gray and stayed that way.
But Teague was going out there.
With Marcus Roosevelt and his hidden agenda. With maps pointing to cliff faces of shale and sandstone, where one mistake—one loose rock, one failed cam—could mean death.
He’d said he’d be careful.
Like careful meant anything when you were dangling from a rope above the void.
And with Noah running things from here, dispatch didn’t need her. Besides, her real skills were useless behind that desk. Had always been useless—she just hadn’t been brave enough to admit it.
Something tugged at her. Pushing. Pulling.
If she stepped back onto the rock, she couldn’t hide anymore. Not from grief. Not from hope. She’d have to face both—and find out if she was strong enough to survive either.
It was time to stop hiding.
Eden’s hand lifted. “I can help.”
Every head turned toward her.
Teague’s eyes finally snapped up from the map—wide with something that looked like shock. Or horror. Or both.
“I have climbing experience,” she continued, her voice steadier than she felt. “Technical skills. And I can call in favors—I know competitive climbers who might help if I ask.”
Virgil’s eyebrows rose toward his light-gray hairline. “You’re a climber?”
“Was.” The word had an edge she couldn’t soften. “I haven’t climbed in two years. But the skills don’t disappear.”
Teague opened his mouth—
Virgil cut him off with a raised hand. “Two years isn’t that long. And if you can bring in additional help—experienced climbers who know what they’re doing—I’ll be grateful.” His gaze sharpened. “But are you sure about this?”
No.
She wasn’t sure about anything.
But she met Virgil’s gaze. “I’m sure.”
The meeting dissolved into logistics. Timelines. Routes. Backup protocols. Eden barely heard any of it. Her pulse roared in her ears, drowning out everything except the sick certainty that she’d just volunteered for the exact thing she’d sworn never to do again.
When Virgil dismissed them, Eden headed for the door. She made it three steps into the hallway before Teague’s voice stopped her.
“Eden. Wait.”
She turned slowly.
Teague stood in the doorway, backlit by fluorescent lights, his expression unreadable. The shadows under his eyes looked darker from this angle.
“Don’t do this.”
The words landed like a slap.
Eden’s hands clenched. “Excuse me?”
Teague stepped closer, lowering his voice. “I’m all for you climbing again. But these climbs will be rough. Technical. Dangerous—”
Marcus walked out with Virgil, heading toward the superintendent’s office. Their voices faded down the hallway.
Teague watched until the door clicked shut, then turned back to her. “Please. You don’t have to prove anything to me.”
“Prove anything?” Heat flooded her chest. “You think that’s what this is about?”
“I think you’re trying to make a point. About me being reckless—”
“This isn’t about you.” Liar. “The park needs climbers. I’m a climber. Simple.”
“You haven’t climbed in two years.”
She stepped closer. “You’re the one who said this chaos won’t end until the cache is found. You’re the one who volunteered to go out there with a man who’s clearly hiding something. And you’re the one who so eloquently called me a caged climber. So don’t stand here and tell me I can’t help.”
“That’s different.”
She crossed her arms. “Enlighten me.”
“I’m trained for this. It’s my job.”
“It was my job too.” Her voice hardened. “I was one of the best climbers in my program. Rescues, technical ascents—everything you’re planning to do out there. The only difference is I stopped.”
Teague ran a hand through his curls. “Yes, you stopped. And instead of easing back into it, you’re jumping into a dangerous situation.”
“Funny.” She tilted her head. “I seem to remember someone leaping across an eight-foot gap with no helmet only a few days ago. How’d you describe it? ‘Basic climbing technique’?”
His jaw tightened. “That’s not the same.”
“You’re right. I’ll have proper gear and a team. You had nothing but your massive ego and dumb luck.”
Something flickered in his expression—annoyance, maybe, but also something that looked suspiciously like admiration. “I had a plan.”
“The plan of a lemming.”
His mouth twitched. “Did you just call me a lemming?”
“If the tiny suicidal rodent fits.”
Teague exhaled a sound that was almost a laugh. “For the record, lemmings don’t actually throw themselves off cliffs. That’s a myth.”
He stared at her for a long moment, something shifting in his expression. The tension between them changed—still charged, but different now. Warmer.
“You’re not going to back down, are you?”
“Have I ever?”
“No.” His voice softened. “That’s one of the things I—” He stopped himself. Cleared his throat. “One of the things that makes you good at your job.”
But she’d heard the pause. Heard what he’d almost said.
“If you can put your life at risk, so can I.” She met his eyes. “You don’t get to decide that your life matters less than everyone else’s. That you’re the only one allowed to volunteer for dangerous jobs.”
“That’s not what I’m doing.”
“Isn’t it?”
He didn’t answer.
“I’m going.” Her decision solidified, even as everything in her seemed to tremble. “I’m calling my contacts. And even if they don’t agree to help, I’ll be part of this search whether you like it or not.”
Teague’s jaw worked, muscles tensing. He took a half step toward her. Close enough that she caught the scent of coffee and faint cedar beneath his exhaustion.