Chapter 15
Fifteen
The good news: Marcus’s stick to Kyle’s head had bought them time. The bad news: “time” meant “trapped in an overhang with a murderer hunting them and exactly zero good options.”
Teague scanned the shallow shelter, looking for options they didn’t have. The rain had stopped—small mercies—but Kyle was still out there. Still armed. Still blocking every route down.
His headlamp caught something at the back of the overhang. A gap in the rock face, partially hidden by shadow.
A passage. Maybe three feet wide. Angling upward.
“Found something.” He moved closer. “It goes up.”
Eden crouched as she made her way over, cradling her injured wrist. “Please tell me ‘up’ leads to ‘out.’”
“Can’t tell from here. But the stone looks solid. Good holds.” He traced his headlamp along the visible section. “Steep but climbable.”
“Define climbable.”
“I can climb it.”
“That’s not reassuring. You’d climb a vertical sheet of ice if someone dared you.” She peered into the darkness. “We have one rope. No anchors. No protection. And I have a sprained wrist.”
“You forgot the part where there’s a murderer waiting outside.”
“I was saving the best for last.”
“So our options are: stay here and wait for Kyle to make his way to us, or climb into the unknown with inadequate gear.” Teague shrugged. “I’ve had worse Tuesdays.”
“It’s Monday.”
“Even better. Mondays are always good days.”
“Mondays are never good days.”
“I guess that changes today.”
Eden almost smiled. Almost. “Your optimism is either inspiring or delusional. I can’t decide which.”
“Why not both?”
He turned to Marcus, who’d opened his eyes. The man looked terrible—gray-faced, pupils uneven in the headlamp light. Concussion at a minimum.
“Can you stand? We need to move.”
Marcus tried to push himself up. His arms gave out. He slumped back against the wall.
“Not…going anywhere.” His words came out slurred. “Too dizzy. You go. Get help.”
“We’re not leaving you.” Eden knelt beside him.
“Have to.” A ghost of a smile crossed his face. “Save your girl, Teague. That’s an order.”
Your girl.
Teague’s chest tightened. He pulled the velvet pouch from his jacket and dumped it out, then pressed the antique key into Marcus’s palm. Something like peace settled over the man’s battered features.
“My grandfather’s legacy.” His fingers closed around it. “Thank you.”
“Thank me when we get you out of here.” Teague stood. “Which we will. The rescue team is still coming. They’ll find you.”
“And if Kyle finds me first?”
“Then you hit him with another stick. You still hold the home-run record, remember?”
Marcus managed a weak laugh. “Go. Please. Before he comes up here.”
Teague looked at the passage. At Marcus. At Eden.
Every option was bad. But staying here while Kyle hunted them and Marcus deteriorated—that was worse.
“You should take Marcus instead.” Eden’s voice was quiet. Defeated. “Leave me here. I brought Kyle. I vouched for him. I’m the reason—”
“No.”
“Teague—”
“You trusted the wrong person. That’s on Kyle, not you.” He held her gaze. “We all mess up. Trust the wrong people. Miss signs we should have caught.”
“I should have seen what he was.”
“Should have, could have, would have.” His hand found her good one. Her fingers were cold. Trembling. “You know what that gets you? Five years of regret and a really unhealthy relationship with risk.”
“Speaking from experience?”
“Extensive experience.” His thumb traced across her knuckles. “Chip died and I spent every day since trying to earn my way back. Be good enough. Fast enough. Brave enough. Like if I just pushed hard enough, it would balance the scales.”
“Did it work?”
“What do you think?”
She was quiet for a moment. “I think you’re still trying.”
“Not anymore.” He squeezed her hand. “God doesn’t need me to be perfect first. Doesn’t need me to clean myself up or earn my way back. He wants me—all my messiness, all my mistakes, all of it.”
A pause.
“And same goes for you.” He cleared his throat. “And not just God. I know my declaration earlier wasn’t the right time. It sort of just slipped out when I was yelling at Kyle. But it slipped out because it was true. I love you. I want you. Messiness and all.”
Eden’s eyes filled. “That was smoother than your usual lines.”
“I’ve been practicing.”
“In the middle of a life-and-death situation?”
“Best time for it. High stakes. Nowhere to run. You have to listen to me.”
“That’s manipulative.”
“That’s strategic.” He pulled her to her feet. “We’re going up together. We’re getting out of this. Then we’re sending help for Marcus.”
“I can’t climb with this wrist.” She shook her head. “I’ll fall, and without anchors—”
“I’ll catch you.”
He was already threading rope through both of their harnesses.
“Teague, no.” Eden grabbed at the rope with her good hand. “If I fall, I’ll take you with me.”
“Then don’t fall.”
“That’s your plan? Don’t fall?”
“It’s a work in progress.” His hand covered hers on the rope. “I’m not leaving any other way. So the question is simple. Do you trust me?”
She looked at him for a long moment. The fear. The doubt. The weight of everything between them—every harsh word, every turned back, every moment she’d pushed him away.
Then, slowly, she nodded. “With my life.”
Something cracked open in Teague’s chest. Something that had been locked tight since she’d walked away from him on that plateau.
“And I trust you with mine.” He leaned in and kissed her. Soft. Certain. Not the kiss he wanted to give her—not with Kyle hunting them and Marcus injured and an impossible climb ahead.
But a promise.
“Get a move on.” Marcus muttered from the ground.
Teague laughed despite everything. “We’re coming back for you.”
“I know. Now go save the day. I’ll just be here. Bleeding.” Marcus managed a weak smile. “Go.”
Teague started up first, headlamp cutting through darkness. The passage was tight—and angled steeply. The air was close. Damp. Smelling of stone and age.
“How you doing?” he called down.
“Wrist hurts. Walls are closing in. Pretty sure I saw a spider.” Her voice was strained but steady. “Other than that, fantastic.”
“That’s the spirit.”
“I wasn’t being spirited. I was being sarcastic.”
“With you, it’s the same thing.”
They climbed in silence for several minutes, the passage growing steeper. Teague’s ribs screamed at every movement, but he pushed through—one hold at a time, one breath at a time.
Then Eden slipped.
“Teague!”
The rope snapped tight as her weight hit it—sudden, wrenching. Teague braced himself against the narrow walls, jamming his body into the gap.
Pain shot through his ribs. White-hot. Blinding.
“I’ve got you!” His voice echoed. “Find your feet!”
“I can’t—my wrist—”
“Yes, you can. Take a breath. Find your feet. I’m not letting go.”
He heard her scrambling below. Gasping breaths. Boots scraping stone.
The weight on the rope eased.
“Okay.” Her voice shook. “I’m on.”
“See? Nothing to it.”
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
“No. I don’t.” A pause. “Keep climbing.”
They climbed higher. The passage opened slightly but grew steeper—approaching vertical. Teague’s arms burned. His ribs screamed. Every breath was glass.
Eden slipped again.
This time she gave him more warning—a quick cry a few seconds before the rope snapped tight.
His shoulders burned as he took her weight—feet braced against opposing walls, every muscle straining.
“I can’t do this.” Eden’s voice broke. “I’m going to pull us both down.”
“No, you’re not.” He held firm despite the fire in his arms. “Eden. Look at me.”
She tilted her head up. Face pale in his headlamp beam. Tear tracks cutting through dust.
“You said you trust me.”
“I do.”
“Then trust me now. I know you’re hurt. I know you’re scared.” His voice was steady. Certain. “But I’m going to lead you to a rock that is higher than I am.”
Her blue eyes stayed locked his.
“You just have to follow.”
“Teague—”
“‘From the ends of the earth I call to you, I call as my heart grows faint; lead me to the rock that is higher than I.’” He smiled despite the burning in his arms. “That’s what we’re doing right now. Trusting the Rock. Not me. Not you. But God.”
He reached down with one hand, his other arm screaming as it took full weight. “And He’s got us both.”
Eden stared up at him. Tears streaming.
“Come on, Eden, you can do this. We can do this. God is with us. Trust that. And trust me.”
Something shifted in her expression—fear giving way to something else.
Something like hope.
Something like faith.
Trust.
Trust in Teague. Trust in God.
For the first time in two years, she didn’t fight it. Didn’t run.
God, I can’t do this alone. I’ve been trying to be strong enough, careful enough, in control enough—and I’m not. I’m so tired of carrying this by myself.
Please. Help me trust the rope. Trust Teague. Trust You.
The prayer was ragged. Imperfect. Nothing like the thought-out words she used to offer before Landon died.
But it was real. Raw. Honest.
“Okay.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “Let’s do this.”
Eden had spent the summer questioning Teague’s judgment. Turned out his judgment—reckless, impulsive, utterly terrifying judgment—had just saved her life. Twice.
She was going to have to rethink some things.
A few minutes later, they reached the top of the plateau. Storm clouds retreated toward the eastern rim, trailing curtains of rain that caught the sun peeking through the western sky. Kyle must have seen them pop up, because a shot rang out as rock exploded a couple yards away.
Teague grabbed her hand and pulled her away from the edge, put solid rock between them and where Kyle hunted below. “I doubt Kyle can make the climb, but maybe if he’s focused on us, he’ll leave Marcus be.”
They sat collapsed against a large boulder, both gasping for breath, lungs burning from the climb.
“Now what?” Eden’s voice was quiet.
“Now we wait for rescue and try not to get shot.”
“Solid plan.”
“I thought so.”
He turned toward her, checking her over. “Are you okay?”
“My wrist really hurts. But I don’t think it’s broken.” She cradled it against her side. “I’m alive. We’re alive.”