22. Chapter 22 #2
I tucked Rafael’s pistol securely into my waistband at my left hip and kept Ciro’s in my right hand as I went after her.
The late-afternoon light barely made it through the canopy. Banana plants crowded this steeper section of the mountain, their broad leaves hiding roots, loose rocks, and sudden drops in the ground. Every wrong step hurt somewhere, but none of it mattered while Isabella was still ahead of me.
I couldn’t see her, but thank God, I could hear nearly everything she touched.
Branches broke. Leaves thrashed. Something large enough to be a sapling snapped back into place after she barreled through it.
The noise could lead every armed man searching this side of the mountain straight to us.
Yelling could bring company, but losing her would be worse.
“Isabella!” I shouted.
No answer.
I followed the noise she made and hit a slippery slope buried beneath dry leaves. My boots skidded, and I slid several feet before catching myself against a tree trunk.
I shoved off and kept going.
For a woman I’d named Mouse, she was making one hell of a racket. And the fact that those shorter legs were making me work this hard to catch her was becoming embarrassing.
Another branch cracked ahead.
“Mouse, slow the fuck down!”
Nothing.
I pushed through a wall of thorny brush, earning several new scratches I could add to my growing collection, and finally caught sight of her. The backpack bounced against her shoulders as she ran with no attempt to hide her trail or check the ground in front of her.
Then she disappeared again.
“Isabella!”
She kept running.
There was no strategy in it. No checking where she put her feet, no listening before she moved, none of the careful patience I’d watched her use inside the dungeon.
She was simply running.
Then the terrain ahead began to change.
The trees thinned so gradually that I almost missed it at first. The heavy canopy broke apart. Wind hit my face.
The light ahead opened too wide.
I slowed for half a stride.
There should have been more trees.
More mountain.
Instead, through the thinning trunks, I saw the sky.
Too much fucking sky.
My stomach dropped before I ever saw the edge.
“Isabella!”
I shoved Ciro’s pistol into my waistband at my right hip and ran as hard as I could.
I crashed through the brush, knocking branches aside. Loose volcanic soil shifted under my next step, sending stones skittering downhill ahead of me.
Isabella broke through the last line of growth several yards away.
Beyond her was nothing.
I hit the open ground behind her at a dead run.
“Stop!”
Her right boot came down on a patch of loose black soil.
The ground slid beneath it.
A spray of dirt and small stones poured over the edge and vanished.
Isabella’s arms windmilled as she tried to catch her balance, but her momentum was already carrying her forward.
Her second foot slipped, and I lunged.
My left hand caught the top of her backpack. My right hand closed around a fistful of her shirt between her shoulder blades.
Her weight jerked me toward the edge.
Fuck.
I dropped backward, drove my right boot against a thick exposed root, and heaved with everything I had.
For half a second, Isabella hung at an angle over nothing.
Just empty air beneath her and a sheer wall of black volcanic rock dropping into a ravine.
Loose dirt trickled past us and disappeared.
“Jesus fucking Christ.”
I hauled back and dragged Isabella from the edge.
She landed partly across me. I wrapped one arm around her middle and rolled us farther from the edge before the loose ground decided to send us both over the cliff.
We stopped against a rocky outcrop several feet back, and for a few seconds, neither of us moved.
I was breathing as if I’d just run the entire way from Manhattan. Every injury I’d ignored on the way down the mountain had caught up with me, and Isabella was sprawled across my chest.
She was still alive, and that was all that mattered.
When she finally lifted her head, her gaze went past me toward the cliff.
The ravine dropped almost straight down, sheer volcanic rock disappearing into trees far below. There was no slope to catch a fall. No ledge. No second chance.
Nothing that would have stopped her.
Her entire body began to shake.
“I—I didn’t…”
“Isabella, it’s okay.”
She kept staring at the cliff, and my eyes dropped to her mouth when those beautiful, full lips moved without producing a word.
I caught her face between my hands and turned her back to me.
“Look at me.”
Her eyes found mine, wide and blinking.
“Are you hurt?”
“No. I don’t think so.”
That answer did absolutely nothing for my blood pressure.
I checked anyway, running my hands quickly over her arms and sides, then down her legs. Her jeans were dirty, one knee torn, but I saw no blood beyond what belonged to Rafael and Marcela.
“Does anything hurt?”
She swallowed. “My knee. A little.”
“Your head?”
“No.”
“Ankle?”
“No.”
“Back?”
“No.”
I let out a relieved breath. “Good. That’s good.”
I pressed my forehead to hers.
“You don’t get to die on me, Mouse.”
“I wasn’t trying to.” Her voice cracked. “I didn’t see it. I thought the ground kept going.”
“Shh. It’s okay,” I said, pulling her against me and wrapping my arms around her.
“I’m sorry I scared you,” she said, barely above a whisper.
I wanted to shake her for frightening me. But mostly I wanted to keep her against me until she stopped trembling and the terrified look in her eyes disappeared.
So I gave us another few seconds.