Eight #3
“Keep going,” he urged, his voice low but firm, and he pushed her ahead, his hand still wrapped around her wrist. Lark barked, the staccato sound echoing back to them, and a fresh surge of adrenaline flushed through his system.
If she was barking, she was spooked, caught the scent of accelerant or was signaling danger ahead.
They reached the edge of the clearing, the ground falling away to a sheer cliff, the distant valley spread out below them in a dizzying panorama of jagged peaks and winding trails. Trevor skidded to a stop, and Helena reeled beside him, her eyes going wide as she looked down.
“Oh no,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Trevor—”
A shot rang out, the pop of the rifle loud and precise, a hot rush of air whipping past his ear. He dropped to one knee, instinct taking over, and yanked Helena down beside him, his free hand going to his sidearm.
“Stay down!” he growled, his mind racing as he scanned the ridge above, trying to pinpoint the shooter’s location. Another shot hit the rocks beside them, spraying them with sharp, stinging shards of stone. Trevor flinched, his body pressing Helena closer to the ground as he tried to shield her.
Then, without warning, Helena’s body shifted, the loose rocks beneath her boots giving way, and she slid toward the cliff’s edge. Her hands scrambled for an anchor, her fingernails scraping against the unforgiving stone, and a strangled, terrified sound tore from her throat.
“Helena!” he shouted, lunging for her, his heart seizing as her legs kicked out over the void, her fingers scrabbling for a hold on the crumbling rock.
He grabbed for her, but Lark had already shot over and had her sleeve in her grip just as her body pitched over the edge.
Trevor grabbed her wrist then and Lark let go, knowing her handler had her, but the full weight of Helena was pulling him forward.
He braced his boots against the unstable ground, his muscles straining as he fought to keep his grip, his breath coming in harsh, frantic gasps.
Her wide, terrified eyes met his, and he felt a jolt of raw, visceral fear, the realization that if he lost his grip, she would plummet into the abyss below.
“I’ve got you,” he growled through gritted teeth, his fingers digging into her wrist, the tendons in his forearm burning with the effort. “Don’t you dare let go.”
Helena’s other hand flailed, her fingers finding a jagged outcrop of rock, and she clung to it, her knuckles white. The world seemed to shrink to that one tenuous connection, the rough, cutting edges of the rock, the searing pain in his arm, the wild, terrified look in her eyes.
“Trevor,” she gasped, her voice breaking. “I can’t—”
“Yes, you can!” he snapped, his own fear bleeding into his voice. “Hold on. I’m not letting you go.”
Lark barked and looked at Trevor for instruction. “Good girl. Stay still.”
He adjusted his weight, and felt the sickening lurch as the ground beneath him shifted, the edge crumbling beneath their combined weight. He leaned back, using every ounce of strength he had, and slowly, agonizingly, hauled her up, inch by inch, her body trembling with the effort.
Finally, her upper half cleared the edge, and he reached down, grabbing her under the arms and dragging her the rest of the way onto solid ground. She collapsed against him, her chest heaving, her body shaking with the aftershock of terror.
They lay there for a moment, tangled together on the rocky ground, the world spinning. Trevor’s arms burned and his hands stung with a patchwork of cuts, but he didn’t let go of her, his mind still reeling from the near miss.
Lark licked her cheek.
“How you holding up?” he asked.
“I’m not. I’m not sure I can even stand, if I’m being honest. My legs are jelly, and I can’t… I can’t stop shaking.” She rubbed Lark’s head. “Thanks, girl.”
Trevor held her tighter. “You might be in shock, but we can’t stick around and get our bearings. He could circle back at any moment.”
“I know. I know.”
He forced himself to his feet, pulling her up beside him, his eyes still on the ridge above. They needed to move—needed to get to the truck before their attacker closed in again. He wrapped his arm around her, his heart still hammering in his chest.
“We can do this. You can do this. You’re the bravest, strongest, woman I know.”
“I appreciate the pep talk, Trevor, I really do, but it’s not settling my nerves any.” She tossed him a half smile, and he laced his fingers with hers.
“It’s true, but so is the fact he has a rifle and probably a scope.”
“I’m feeling stronger already,” she lied, and he found he could actually chuckle.
They stumbled together back into the trees, Lark’s frantic barks urging them on.
As they reached the relative cover of the forest, relief didn’t come.
Instead, a fresh wave of fear crashed over him, the realization that this wasn’t truly over—just this round.
Someone out there wanted them dead, and they had just narrowly escaped becoming another set of bones lost to the mountain.