Chapter Twenty-Eight
Trenton
“No!” I screamed, my voice tearing through the air as I watched Thomas disappear, falling too quickly for me to track.
Camille’s free hand shot out, grabbing my arm with a renewed grip that snapped me back to the present. “Climb up, Trent! Help me! Climb! ” she ordered.
My brain struggled to catch up, but her words gave me a focus, a purpose. She pulled with everything she had, her body trembling under the effort, while I clawed my way up, forcing my limbs to work even though I felt hollow.
When I finally scrambled onto solid ground, my legs gave out beneath me, and I collapsed against her. My chest heaved with ragged sobs, the sound raw and broken.
“I’m sorry,” she choked out as I buried my face against her shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”
She wrapped her arms around me, holding on as if she could hold me together. Her tears streaking new clean lines down her face. I wanted to tell her it was okay, but it wasn’t. Nothing about this was okay.
I stood, pulling her with me.
“Are you hurt?” I asked, looking her over.
“I’m okay,” she said, despite sounding broken. She tried to look over the edge, but I stopped her, holding her face to my chest.
Behind us, I heard someone’s breath catch.
Liis.
She hobbled toward us, her steps uneven, each one punctuated by the faint scrape of her shoes dragging across the sand.
When she reached the edge, she swayed for a moment, steadying herself as she kneeled. Her fingers curled around the jagged ledge of the cliff as she leaned forward, peering into the deep gorge below.
She breathed out a single laugh. “You idiot .”
“I’m sorry, I had to,” Camille said, her bottom lip trembling. “It was either one or both.”
“Not you,” she said, pointing down. “Him.”
We followed Liis’s gaze to the spot she was fixed on, and there he was—Thomas, sitting with his back against the rocky ledge, broken but alive. He was struggling to sit upright, with one arm cradled against his middle, his fingers curled protectively over what must have been an injury. His other arm lifted with difficulty, waving at us with a weak grin. The effort it took for him to move was obvious—his arm faltered midway, dropping to his side as his head tilted back against the rock, exhaustion etched into every line of his face. From where I kneeled, I couldn’t see how bad the damage was, but the sight of him moving at all was enough to pull a gasp from my lips.
“Quit crying, pussy!” he yelled. “I’m alive!”
I bent forward, my hands gripping my knees so tightly my knuckles turned white. A broken sound escaped my throat, somewhere between a sob and a laugh, forcing my entire body to shake. My chest heaved as I struggled to catch my breath, the relief hitting me so hard I struggled to form a single word.
Camille’s hands found my back, her touch steadying me as I shook like a damn leaf, the sheer chaos of everything hitting me all at once, threatening to knock me flat. The absurdity of laughing and crying at the same time didn’t matter—it was the only way my body could process the flood of emotions tearing through me.
“Are you telling me we survived that shit?” I asked.
“Kind of,” Liis said, pulling her phone from her pocket. “We’re going to need a crane or something to get him out of there. He’s injured and he’s about to have a long night if we can’t get him out of there before sunset.”
“No shit,” I said, wiping at my face with the back of my hand, smearing dust and tears into a gritty mess. “A crane?”
“Or something,” she muttered, busy with her phone.
“You’d better be calling in a goddamn miracle.” I scanned the desert horizon, then back down to my brother. “You hear that?” I yelled. “Don’t go anywhere. Your girl is calling your buddy, Tony Stark!”
He shot a thumbs up. “Good idea. I’ll just hang out here for a while,” he called back.
“I’m sorry!” Camille called down.
He waved her away. “I knew I’d be fine. I’m too pretty to die like this.”
“You’re too dumb to die like this,” Liis muttered, a grin on her face. She looked to Trenton. “This is the product of a series of misfortunate connections. We’re not the Avengers. Not even close.”
“So, you really are just in advertising? You just got caught up in some crazy mess?” I asked.
“Just like you with Madison,” she said.
I frowned. “Well, that’s disappointing. I thought my brother was a legit superhero.”
Liis rolled her eyes. “He thinks so, too.”
She sat on her knees, trying her best to get comfortable.
“Are you okay now?” Camille asked. “No more contractions?”
Liis shook her head no, her phone pressed firmly to her ear. After a few moments, she blinked once someone answered the other side of the call.
“Val, it’s Liis. I need a high-angle rescue team and first responders dispatched to my location. Yes, we’re approximately forty minutes east of Chinle, probably a mile off the road. Thomas has fallen…” she trailed off, looking down, “forty feet onto a shockingly narrow ledge.”
“Who needs Iron Man when we’ve got an advertising exec?” I said, stunned at her command of technical jargon.
She ignored me and continued, “He’s conscious but hurt, with potential broken bones and internal injuries.”
“Internal injuries?” I asked.
Liis held up her index finger, listening.
“That doesn’t sound good,” I said to Camille.
Concern shadowed her face. “He’ll be fine. He’s tough.”
Liis continued, “We don’t have the equipment to extract him, and the terrain is unstable. Send a med team and full rescue gear, possible med evac. I’ll provide further details once they’re en route. Priority response, Val—time is critical. We’re burning daylight here.”
She ended the call, glancing back down to Thomas, holding out her phone. “Ordered you a pizza. Thirty minutes or less!”
Thomas gave her a thumbs up again. She didn’t look as confident as before. “He’s getting quiet.”
“How are you getting signal out here?” I asked.
She shook her phone. “Avengers, remember?”
“Will it really be thirty minutes?” Camille asked.
“No, but he knows that,” she said. “We need to watch each other for signs of shock—cold or clammy skin, rapid breathing, dizziness, or confusion. If you notice symptoms, speak up. We’ll need to act fast. This heat isn’t doing us any favors, and stress makes it worse.”
“What if Tommy goes into shock?” I asked.
“They’ll send a quick response team,” Liis said with a reassuring smile.
“So, are these like… people you know because of all this, or…” I trailed off.
“No more questions. From this moment on, we put all of this behind us like it never happened, are we clear?”
“I mean… how do I just…” I began.
“Trent,” she said, her voice sharp. “Promise me you’ll let this go. We can’t talk about this again. It’s over.”
I frowned, the sound of that rubbing like a sandpaper massage on my asshole.
Faster than Domino’s, the faint sound of the first of two approaching helicopters broke through the stillness of the desert. My chest tightened with a mix of relief and urgency.
Camille stood beside me, her arms folded tightly, her eyes locked on the horizon. “The quick response team really is quick,” she murmured, almost to herself.
“They can get water, blankets, and medical supplies down to him and start planning the rescue while we wait for the big guns,” Liis said. “Unless they have a backboard and hoist onboard, then we may make Earl’s, after all.”
An hour before sunset, dozens of red and blue lights lit up the sea of sand surrounding us, working with an efficiency that proved to be both comforting and nerve-wracking. Once a plan was formed, one of the helicopters stirred back to life, kicking up a whirlwind of sand and grit as it hovered over the gorge, the loud chop of the blades drowning out everything else. A crew of three rappelled down with precision, their movements seamless—just another day at the office.
Camille watched with me from the back of an ambulance, pulling the silver emergency blanket tight around her. “He’ll be up any minute,” she said, barely audible above the whir of the rotors.
“What do you make of all this?” I asked.
“I don’t know, baby, and to be honest, I don’t care. As long as it’s over,” she said.
“I’ll drink to that,” I said, nodding. My throat was too tight to form words as I watched the team communicate with sharp, efficient gestures.
One of the rescuers was already on the ledge with Thomas, running an IV. Another was in the helicopter preparing to descend with a backboard, clipping himself onto a line, testing the tension with a quick tug before stepping off the edge. For a heart-stopping moment, he seemed to hover, then dropped smoothly, dangling in midair like a pendulum as the rope trembled under his weight.
I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug into my palms, the sharp sting barely registering. Each second felt stretched and fragile. My eyes never left the rescuer as he descended further, the gap between extraction and the ledge Thomas had been camped on for hours shrinking agonizingly slowly.
Finally, the man stationed at the back of the helicopter leaned out, scanning the line below before giving a sharp signal to the pilot that Thomas was secure. A few long seconds passed before the backboard came into view, my brother lying flat and strapped in, a brace around his neck. The board swayed slightly as the helicopter reached high enough elevation to begin moving him to high ground, the ropes creaking under the tension. My breath caught in my throat as I watched Thomas ascend, the wind from the rotors whipping around him and sending sand spiraling into the air. The entire scene felt like it was moving in slow motion—the board climbing steadily higher, the rescuer gripping the line with practiced ease, and the ground team focused on the shaky ascent. The sight of Thomas being hoisted up, his body dangling precariously over the drop, made my stomach churn.
I stood frozen, my hands clenched at my sides, unable to exhale until the stretcher reached the safety of the ground and Thomas was unclipped from the ropes. Only then did I let out a shaky breath, my chest aching from the tension.
“He’s okay!” Camille said, hugging me to her side with both hands.
Liis rushed over, holding his hand in hers as the ground team worked the straps and moved him onto a stretcher, stabilizing him as they checked his vitals and moved him to a second helicopter, this one a med evac.
“Liis is going to ride with him, get the baby checked out,” a paramedic said, tugging my sleeve to get my attention. “You two will be riding in the back of my rig.”
I nodded, my eyes fixed on the emergency responders as they carefully carried Thomas toward the waiting med evac. Liis hobbled close behind them, her pregnant gait awkward against the soft sand. Just as they reached the helicopter, she paused, turning back to search for us. Her gaze locked on mine, and she lifted a hand in a brief wave, her expression a mix of exhaustion, relief, and reassurance. Camille and I waved back, lingering for a moment before climbing into the back of an ambulance waiting nearby. The medic gestured for us to sit as the doors shut behind us with a heavy clang.
As the diesel engine rumbled to life, I glanced at Camille, her hand gripping the edge of the bench tightly, and I knew we were both holding on to the same thought—we’d see them soon, but we were over an hour away from the closest hospital.
The ride was loud and bumpy, the constant hum of the equipment and the medics’ clipped voices filling the space. Camille relaxed her head on my shoulder, the silver sheet still wrapped around her like a security blanket.
“They’re checking in over the radio. He’s stable for now,” the medic said, sensing her worry. “We’ll know more when we get him to the hospital.”
The ambulance jolted slightly as it hit a bump, making the whole damn metal box shake. Camille looked up at me, relief washing over her face.
“Are we gonna talk about it?” I asked.
Her brows pulled in. “I thought we agreed not to.”
I chuckled. “Your Sophie’s Choice moment.”
“Oh, that,” she said, swallowing. “Can we not? I’m going to have nightmares for years.”
“Don’t beat yourself up. You had to make an impossible call.”
She shook her head. “No.”
“No?”
“If I could go back, I’d do it again. I’ll always choose you. I’ll choose you in every lifetime.”
We kept each other’s gaze for a moment, and then I pressed my lips against hers. After a few seconds, she melted into me like she used to. I cupped her face, my thumb brushing along her cheek as the kiss deepened, her mouth parting slightly to invite me closer. The taste of her was intoxicating, even if it was mixed with a few grains of sand.
I tilted my head, pulling her closer, my tongue sweeping against hers. It wasn’t just a kiss; it was a conversation, an unspoken promise wrapped in the way our mouths moved together.
The world faded for a moment—no chaos, no sirens, no hum of the wheels beneath the ambulance—just her.
When we parted, her eyes remained closed, the corners of her mouth turning up slightly. “There you are,” she whispered. Her eyes peeled open. “You’re back.”
“We’re back,” I said. “And no one can question your loyalty ever again after the very clear choice you just made.”
“It wasn’t a choice. Once I realized I couldn’t save you both, I didn’t even think about it.”
“That’s my point. I’m just glad Thomas didn’t have to die for the world to figure that out.”
Her eyes snapped back to mine. “It’s not funny. He could’ve died, Trent. Liis would’ve never forgiven me.”
“Yes, she would’ve. You know why? Because if it were her hands we were holding on to… I would’ve been the one cut loose. You did what you had to do, and it saved both of us. You think Thomas is lying on that stretcher thinking you betrayed him? Hell no. He’s probably pissed he’s not the one here telling you this himself.”
She thought about my words, and that seemed to calm her conscience.
The ambulance jerked to a stop, the back doors swinging open to reveal the harsh glare of floodlights cutting through the dark night. Camille and I climbed out, the air cooler than I’d expected, the faint smell of asphalt and antiseptic hanging in the breeze. The medics reached out to steady us, but I shrugged them off, my boots hitting the ground hard. My focus was on the glowing windows of the hospital ahead, not the crowd of nurses and techs waiting to whisk us inside. I had one goal: to get to my brother. But a nurse blocked my path like a human barricade, tablet in hand.
“You need to be treated first,” she said firmly, her voice leaving no room for argument.
“They checked us out in the ambulance. My brother’s inside. I need to see him.”
She eyed the dirt, blood, and bruises covering me like a checklist of injuries. “We can’t let you wander the halls like this. You’ll be treated, or you’ll sign an AMA and then be escorted out and trespassed.”
Camille stepped in, her voice calm and steady. “It’s fine, babe. Let’s just get it over with.”
I sighed. “Fine, but we stay together.”
The nurse looked to Camille who gave her a reassuring nod. “Follow me.”
Camille grabbed my hand, giving it a squeeze, her way of thanking me for doing it the easy way for once. I realized then that today hadn’t been her first time; she’d been pulling me back from ledges since we met.
Inside, the fluorescent lights were almost blinding compared to the darkness outside, the air conditioning raising goosebumps on my arms. We were led to a small treatment room, the faint smell of disinfectants and latex gloves hanging in the air.
Camille perched on the edge of one chair while I leaned against the wall, arms crossed. A nurse came in, tablet in hand, and looked at me expectantly. “Take a seat.”
“I’m good,” I said flatly.
“No, you’re not,” Camille said, amused. She pointed to the empty chair. “Sit down.”
I walked over and dropped into the chair with a grunt, muttering under my breath, “They checked us already. We’re wasting time.”
The nurse worked methodically, cleaning cuts on my arms and face, pressing at my shoulder until I winced. “Strained muscle,” she said matter-of-factly. “Take it easy for a few days.”
Camille sat quietly as another nurse tended to her, though her fingers twisted in her lap. She winced as her scrapes were cleaned, but she said nothing. I waited as they took her back for X-Rays on her shoulders and smiled when she returned.
After our labs came back, the nurses gave us the all-clear. I was out the door before they could finish their instructions, pulling Camille close behind me. Now nearing nine o’clock, the hallways were quiet and nearly empty. When we reached Thomas’s room, the door was cracked, soft beeps from the monitors spilling into the hall.
I stepped inside, and there he was, propped up in the hospital bed, pale but grinning like an idiot. “You look like shit,” he quipped.
I crossed my arms, smirking. “Yeah, well, some of us weren’t dumb enough to fall off a cliff.”
“I heard you ugly cried,” he teased.
“Fuck you, asshat. I thought you’d died,” I said, putting my hand on his.
His grin widened. “Soft, Trent. You’re going soft.”
“I’m just glad you didn’t get fisted by a cactus when you landed.”
“Oh my God,” Liis said, covering her mouth, trying not to laugh.
“You good?” I asked her.
She nodded, crossing her arms over her middle. “He should be discharged in the morning. No internal bleeding, thank God. Just a few bumps and bruises. It’s a miracle he didn’t break any bones.”
“Adamantium?” I asked Thomas, hugging Camille to my side. “That’s Wolverine, I guess. He’s more X-Men than Avengers, huh?”
“My superpower is dumb luck,” Thomas muttered, slowly stretching away from whatever pain was bothering him. “Looks like you two aren’t going to need the full two weeks to get back to baseline.”
“Just two days and a near death experience,” I said, kissing her temple.
Thomas settled into his crunchy hospital bed, proud of himself for the part he played. “Good. That’s good.”
“I’m glad you’re going to be okay,” Camille added, then looked to Liis. “They checked the baby?”
Liis looked down, touching her middle. “Stella is perfect.”
“Stella,” Camille whispered, touching her fingers to her chest.
Thomas’s grin stretched across his face, smug and unshakable. “Perfect like her daddy.”
Liis smile faded. “I would’ve chosen Trent, too.”
Thomas feigned offense, and we all simultaneously winced from various points of pain that flared when we broke into laughter.
Camille was smiling like she meant it, something I didn’t think I’d see for a long time, if ever. I looked around at them—my wife, my brother, Liis—and it felt like I was breathing fresh air for the first time in months.
Through hell and back, through fear and doubt, we’d made it. Every step had been brutal, every choice impossible, but there we were, alive, together, and still standing—well, most of us. The bruises would fade, the cuts would heal, and the marks left behind would serve as permanent reminders of what we had survived, of the battles we’d chosen to fight and win. Every scar, every ache, every moment that nearly broke us was proof that we refused to quit—fought for each other, for the love that somehow endured even when everything else felt like it was crumbling around us.
No gorge could swallow us whole, no enemies could take us down for good, and no pain could erase what we had built together. Nothing could change the fact that we came out on the other side stronger than we started—all because we made the choice not to quit.
Not because we were perfect, but because we weren’t. The fractures in our family somehow fit together to make us whole. Bruised, battered, and with amends still to be made, it wasn’t the perfect ending—but that was because it wasn’t an ending at all.