Clarke
The helicopter stayed on our heels as we raced to catch up with the herd. They’d reached the clearing—running free, finally free—but now that we’d been spotted, how long would that freedom last?
How long until Hanover sent his men after them? How long until they were hauled into trailers, driven across state lines, and wrapped in deli paper?
“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God—”
“If you’re going to panic,” Colton snapped, “do it silently.” His tone was sharp enough to cut through steel. Avalon flinched, but she didn’t argue. She nudged Apollo away from him and Andromeda, her face unreadable.
I followed her to the tree she ducked under, the helicopter’s blades chopping the air above us like a warning.
“It’s okay,” I murmured, sliding off Hestia. “We can freak out later.”
Avalon shook her head, dark hair falling over her eyes. “No. He’s right. I need to stop being so goddamn scared all the time. It doesn’t help anyone. Especially not me.”
She tucked her hair behind her ear, letting out a shaky laugh. “I wish I had your courage.”
I gave her a small, knowing smile. “I used to be scared. Terrified. Of everything. Of the world. Of myself. Of how I’d have to change to survive it.”
Her eyes softened.
“And then I looked at my sister,” I whispered. “The bravest little cowgirl I’ve ever met.”
Avalon’s expression melted at the mention of Melody.
“Her strength kept me going on the days I wanted to give up,” I said. “I don’t know if I’ll have that same strength once she’s gone. She’s been my rock. My hope.”
Avalon reached for my hand. She tugged off my glove, so our skin touched, warm against warm, grounding me.
“Hold onto me,” she whispered. “You are my home, Clarke. Let me be your hope.”
My throat tightened. Tears blurred my vision. Crybaby Clarke, making her grand reappearance. I squeezed her hand—the only answer I could manage.
She smiled, nodding toward the others. “Let’s get the horses away from the cameras, yeah.”
I laughed, mimicking her tone. “Yeah.”
“Shut up,” she snorted, swatting at me. “It’s a Southern California thing.”
I dodged her hand. “I think it’s cute. Your voice goes up a notch and you’re all like—” I fluttered my lashes dramatically. “Yeah.”
Her laugh echoed off the mountains, bright and loud and alive. “I definitely don’t do that.”
I moved to nudge her—but something glinted on the horizon. A flash of light. Sharp. Metallic.
I steered Hestia toward it, squinting as the sun caught the object again. The grass thinned into a worn dirt path leading into a small inlet carved into the mountain.
A passageway. Big enough for a horse, several even. Small enough to lose a helicopter. My heart kicked.
Crossing the creek, I shielded my eyes and slid off Hestia. She nickered nervously, stepping back. I soothed her with a hand along her neck.
“It’s okay, girl.”
I approached the object carefully, scanning for snakes. It was wedged into the dirt wall—jammed there with force or placed with purpose. A belt buckle.
Silver. Untarnished. Beautiful. I brushed off the clay and traced the design—cowboy gripping a bucking mustang with one hand and a guitar with the other. Cacti and desert stretched behind him.
Who would leave something like this here? A rustle behind me. Delia stepped into view, her wedding dress grass-stained, hair falling from its pins—still somehow looking ethereal.
“Did you find something?” she asked, hands on her hips. “The boys are getting antsy. I’m afraid my husband might shoot the chopper.”
I snorted. “I wouldn’t put it past him.” I slipped the buckle into my back pocket. “But I think I found another way out.”
I nodded toward the passage. “If we’re lucky, it goes all the way through.”
“And if we’re not?”
I shrugged. “We don’t have much to lose.”
Delia called the others over. I glanced up at the helicopter—still hovering, still filming, still too close.
We’d searched the clearing for another escape route. Nothing. The cave was our only option. It had to work. We had to make it through.