Chapter 12
Twelve
He wasn’t dead. Yet.
But that could change fast if he didn’t move. The rope’s snap had hurled Liam into the furious water, cold enough to stop his heart, the frothing current strong enough to drag him under and drown him.
He clung to the frayed rope remnant, fingers screaming against rough hemp. Please hold. Please.
Branches hammered his face. Rocks gouged his arms. Muddy water blinded him, filled his mouth with grit and his thoughts with desperation. His pack dragged at him like an anchor, deadweight trying to pull him to the bottom.
His mom’s voice filled his head. When you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. But they were doing just that. Lord, a little help.
Hand over hand up the rope. Had to climb. Had to—
Not working.
The pack was killing him. He spent precious energy unclipping the chest strap. He shrugged one arm out, then the other. His lifeline—food, water, shelter—disappeared into the brown torrent.
Gone.
But he could move faster now. Muscles burned against the current’s relentless pull as he clawed upward.
A branch pummeled him square in the face. His grip loosened, rope sliding through his hands—
No.
He twisted his wrist, wrapped the hemp around his hand like a tourniquet. Came to a bone-jarring halt that nearly dislocated his shoulder.
Close. Too close.
Lose the rope and he’d be a quarter mile downstream in minutes. Fish food in the Colorado River.
His chest burned, lungs begging for air as he fought toward the surface. His hand broke free first. Then his head.
He gasped, choking on water and grit, blinded in the torrent.
He was going back under—
Hands clamped onto his—strong, desperate, hauling him toward safety. More hands grabbed his arms, his jacket, dragging him onto the slick bank like some half-drowned animal.
He collapsed. Coughed up half the river. His world spun as oxygen rushed back into his system.
Nimue’s face hovered above him, those deep-brown eyes wide with fear that punched him in the gut. Her fingers traced the scratch on his cheek where a branch had tried to take his eye out.
“Are you hurt?”
He forced a grin despite his heaving chest. “I think I need mouth-to-mouth.”
“You jerk.” Her laugh came out shaky, relief cracking through panic as she swatted his arm. “Don’t ever scare me like that again. I thought—” Her voice broke even as she collapsed beside him.
He’d thought the same thing. For one terrifying moment, he’d been certain he’d never see her face again.
But that fragile smile, that spark of hope in her eyes—worth every second of nearly drowning.
“Remember my mom’s verse for the family—‘When you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you’? I swear, if there is a fire next—”
“Stop joking around. I really thought I lost you.”
He sat up, pulled her into his arms. Her warmth chased away the cold that had settled in his bones. “You’re not losing me.”
“Promise?”
Her eyes locked on his, and for a heartbeat, the canyon faded—the teens, the Bratva, the danger. This was about staying. About fighting through whatever came next. Together.
For the first time in his life, he wanted to be someone’s anchor instead of drifting from one adventure to the next. Wanted to wrestle through life’s problems with this woman beside him.
He pressed his forehead against hers. “I promise.”
The tension around her eyes melted. He brushed wet hair from her face, giving in to the pull between them despite the chaos around them.
Someone cleared their throat. Loud. Awkward.
Right. They had an audience.
Liam pulled back, breaking free of the moment, and accepted a water bottle from one of the teenagers. His throat felt like he’d gargled sandpaper, but the cool liquid helped. He scanned the group, reality crashing back.
His pack was gone. Their lifeline—water filter, stove, food, first aid kit—all tumbling down the river. Its weight would’ve drowned him for sure, but without it…
“I had to ditch my pack.”
“I know.” Nimue’s voice carried unmasked fear. “For a second, I thought it was—”
He put his arms around her and pulled her to himself, holding tight.
He was still shaking. Or maybe it was her, but yeah, he just closed his eyes and held on. Breathing. Alive. Here.
“I thought you were gone till your hand popped up.” The burly teen’s voice held leftover adrenaline. “That water’s like chocolate milk.”
“Doesn’t taste like chocolate.” Liam released Nimue.
She reached up and wiped mud from his face. Smiled at him.
Very much alive.
He got up. “Time to assess the damage.”
Nimue’s pack held clothes, that sketchpad she treasured, toiletries—all probably soaked now.
A quick headcount confirmed what he’d feared. Twelve mouths to feed, not including himself. Twelve souls to keep warm and alive. Zero supplies. A flash flood between them and Phantom Ranch. And somewhere behind them, the Bratva might still be hunting.
Perfect.
“I’m Liam.” He studied the shell-shocked faces surrounding him. “This is Nimue.”
“Brian.” The burly kid pointed around the circle. “That’s Michelle, Jeff, Amy, J.J., David, DeAnna, Amanda, Rob, Aaron, Noel.”
Half of those names would disappear from his memory in five minutes, but he nodded. “Guessing you’re here without permits.”
Amy—a slight girl with defiance written in every line of her posture—folded her arms. “What makes you think that?”
Bravado couldn’t hide the red-rimmed eyes, the tremor in her voice.
“I’m a backcountry ranger.” His voice carried authority now. Professional mode. “No permits have been issued for this area this month.”
Brian’s shoulders sagged. “We wanted to celebrate graduation. My brother did this a couple years ago. Didn’t get caught so we thought…”
“You thought you’d be stupid.”
Brian flinched.
Nimue put a hand on Liam’s arm. “They’ll face consequences later—fines, community service. Right now, you need to keep them breathing.”
He glanced at her. Nodded. Turned back to Brian. “Your families know you’re here?”
The kids exchanged guilty glances. Finally DeAnna spoke up. “They think we’re on a church youth trip. Don’t expect us back till Sunday.”
No cavalry coming. No search party mobilizing.
They were on their own.
“Supplies?”
“Not much.” Brian’s voice went flat. “The flash flood hit fast. Jeff and Aaron grabbed packs, but they’re just clothes. Rob found that rope yesterday in the wash.”
That explained the rope’s pathetic condition. Had probably had been out here for years, decaying.
“Where’s the bridge?” Nimue said.
He pointed to the other side of the wash.
“Another crossing’s suicide,” Nimue said quietly, low enough that only he could hear.
“Agreed.” He scraped water from his hair, mind racing through options. Focus. Kids first. Survival. Escape.
“That leaves one choice.” Nimue squared her shoulders, jaw set. “Back to the North Rim.”
His chest tightened.
Right where the Bratva was most likely to be. And where they just might be waiting with open arms and loaded weapons. But staying here with no supplies, kids weakening by the hour, wasn’t viable either. The canyon offered no forage, no easy clean-water sources.
He gave her a curt nod.
Time to move.
“Listen up.” His ranger voice cut through their nervous murmurs. “We move as a group. Stay close, pick a buddy, don’t lag behind. Long climb ahead.”
A lanky girl with a braid shifted her weight, voice brittle with panic. “Our cars are at the South Rim.”
“And our phones,” one girl mumbled.
“Again with the phone, Noel?” Jeff let out a grunt as he lifted his hands in frustration. “There is no service down here and no way to charge it. How would carrying around a dead phone possibly help us?”
Her pale blue eyes sent the boy a glare, but then she turned back to Liam. “If we go to the North Rim, how do we get—”
“We’ll figure it out.” His hands flexed, fighting the urge to snap at her. One crisis at a time. “First priority is getting out of this canyon alive.”
These kids had no clue how much trouble they were in. The phone calls their parents would get. The headlines that might follow.
“Keep moving. There is a trail ahead that will lead us out, hit the steep rise of the canyon by sunset. The moon should be nearly full once it rises tonight so hopefully that will give us enough light to get to the top by midnight.” Maybe.
He kept his voice even, calm. No point panicking them further.
“This ground is a rough go, but it will be easier once we get back to the marked trail. So we need to keep moving at a good speed unless you’d rather spend the night down here in wet clothes, trying to start a fire with soggy wood. ”
That shut them up.
The teens fell in behind Nimue as she set the pace, boots finding purchase on muddy stone.
Liam would take the back for now until he was confident they could keep up.
His gaze traveled back to Nimue, his chest tightening as he watched her lead.
She possessed a quiet strength, her calm rooting inside him.
Maybe they’d left the worst of it down there in the wash. Maybe the Bratva had bought their phone decoy. Maybe they’d make it out of this alive.
You’re not losing me.
He’d never meant anything more in his life.
I promise.
His shoulders relaxed. Slightly.
But as they climbed toward the rim, one thought echoed in his head: Please don’t let them be waiting for us up there.
That was it. Meg was asking for a refund from her trainer.
You’re in great shape, Meg. Don’t worry about keeping up with the guys.
Right. Tell that to her screaming lungs.
Meg’s chest burned as she fought to match Noah and Teague’s relentless pace. They moved like machines—steady breathing, easy strides—while she felt like she was suffocating in the desert air.