Chapter 20 #3
Leah narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing him. Then she nodded. "Fine. But I'm watching."
Zane crouched again, cupping my face with both hands.
His thumb gently brushed dust from my cheekbone. Those gray-blue eyes looked straight at me, holding something that tightened my chest—not despair, not surrender, but certainty. A "trust me" certainty.
"One," he said quietly.
I felt his hands trembling slightly.
"Two."
His gaze dropped to my lips, lingered a second.
"Three—"
He shoved me hard to the left. I rolled left, the rope on my wrists—already half-loosened from secretly rubbing against rocks—snapping completely. As I rolled, Zane lunged at Leah like a leopard, grabbing her wrist that held the dagger.
"Run!" He shouted at me.
I didn't run.
I scrambled up, grabbed a rock from the ground, and hurled it at Leah's head.
She screamed, staggered, but kept her grip on the dagger. She whirled around, eyes blazing with madness, and charged at me.
"You bitch!"
We grappled. Her strength surprised me—five years of hardship hadn't weakened her. Her nails raked my arm, leaving bloody trails. I grabbed her hair and slammed her against the wall. She shrieked and swung the dagger at me.
The blade sliced my shoulder, searing pain nearly making me let go.
But then, Zane lunged from behind, trying to wrench away her dagger.
Then I saw a flash.
Not torchlight. The magical runes on the blade activating—blue, cold, emanating death.
"No!"
Zane threw himself in front of me.
The dagger plunged into his chest.
Time froze. I watched the blade sink into his chest, watched blood pour from the wound, staining his shirt crimson. I watched his eyes—those gray-blue eyes—widen, lips parting as if to speak.
Then all three of us lost balance and tumbled toward the cave's edge.
There was a slope—steep, moss-covered, leading into endless darkness.
My body tumbled over rocks and dirt, shoulder slamming stone, knee hitting sharp ridges, pain electric through my body.
I heard Leah's screams echoing in darkness, heard rocks falling, heard my own heartbeat thundering in my ears.
Then, my hand caught something.
A branch. Thick, protruding from the rock face.
My body jerked to a halt, arm nearly dislocating. I dangled in midair, feet over bottomless darkness. Rocks tumbled past me, taking several seconds to hit bottom—deep. This cave was very deep.
I looked up. Zane hung not far above me. His body clung to the wall, one hand gripping a jutting rock, the other pressed to his chest wound. Blood seeped between his fingers, starkly vivid in the dim light.
"Zane—" My voice barely audible.
He looked down at me.
Even in darkness, I saw that faint smile on his lips.
"You're...okay..." he said, voice broken, like each word drained him.
"Shut up," I said, voice shaking. "Don't talk. Save your strength."
I scanned around for footholds. The rock face had many jutting stones and vines, forming a natural ladder descending to a barely visible platform—maybe forty feet down. If we were careful, we could climb down.
"Can you move?" I asked.
He nodded, but the motion was labored.
"Follow me. One step at a time. Don't rush."
I began climbing down. Fingers dug into rock crevices, toes finding every foothold. Rocks crumbled and fell, making small clatter. My shoulder ached, arms trembled, but I didn't stop.
Because stopping meant death.
I heard Zane's ragged breathing behind me, punctuated by suppressed groans. Every time he moved, the metallic smell of blood in the air grew thicker.
"Almost there," I said, unsure if I was reassuring him or myself. "Hold on."
My feet finally hit solid ground.
A small platform—maybe forty square feet—nestled in a recess in the rock face. The ground was relatively flat, covered in dry moss. Above us, the hole we'd fallen through looked like a tiny dot of light, distant as another world.
I turned to help Zane.
Then I heard the sound.
Not rocks falling. Not wind. But—a snapping sound. Subtle, crisp, like a branch breaking.
The rock Zane gripped was giving way.
"Zane—"
He fell.
I lunged forward, arms outstretched, and caught him.
His weight knocked me to the ground, my back slamming against rock, pain blacking my vision. But he landed on me—warm, heavy, still breathing.
I lay there gasping, chest heaving. Zane sprawled on top of me, head buried in my neck, breathing rapid and weak. His blood soaked my clothes, warm, sticky, metallic.
"Zane," I whispered. "You still alive?"
He moved and made a muffled groan.
"Good," I said, wrapping my arms around his back. "Don't die. You hear me? You owe me too much to die like this."
He didn't answer. But his fingers moved, lightly gripping my shirt.
I lay in the darkness, holding him, listening to his weakening heartbeat, feeling my eyes burn.
Fuck.
I'd gone soft.
I closed my eyes, buried my face in his hair, inhaling that scent of blood and cedar, cursing a thousand times in my head.
Then I took a deep breath, opened my eyes, and started figuring out how to get us out of this godforsaken cave.