I sprint faster, praying I’ll reach the safety of the trees before they spot me. My lungs scream for air, and the burn of my muscles is excruciating, but I don’t give up.
I’m running so fast, my break through the line of trees nearly costs me my life.
I step back with barely a second to spare. The double-trailer semi roaring down the highway misses me by an inch.
But that isn’t where my story ends.
My sweat-soaked shoes lose their footing on the uncut grass lining the road’s edge. Add my slip to the pressure of the truck roaring past, and you’ve got the equivalent of a flameless blast.
I land in the ditch separating the road from the field with a thud. Although my body absorbs most of the impact, my head connecting with an exposed rock makes stars dance in front of my eyes, and steals my memories. . .
Air whistles through my circled lips when my hand darts up to cradle the back of my head. I have a bump the size of a baseball covering most of my occipital bone. Its nasty size reveals the reason for my lack of memory of late. I wasn’t drugged or being purposely deceitful. I was knocked out.
“When Nikolai wouldn’t wake, I went to get help.” I point to the exact location I left him. “I left him right there with my shirt as protection for his head.”
“Okay.” Trey rubs his hands together, as unsure as me about where we go from here. “Which way did you travel when you sought help?”
I shift on my feet to face the cliff I scaled.
A whistle rustles Trey’s lips. “Could you see Nikolai the entire time?”
When I nod, Trey moves to stand next to me. “If you could see him, that means he would have been able to see you if he woke.”
Not waiting for me to reply, Trey pushes off his feet. He scales the rock edge with less care than I used days ago. It shouldn’t be odd seeing a roughish, bearded man trek through the wilderness, but it is.
“That’s my shirt.” I nearly lose my footing when I charge for a piece of the blouse I left with Nikolai. It’s tied around a bush halfway down the trail. “He’s leaving us clues.”
I burst into tears. Now is not the time to cry, but if he’s marking his movements, he’s alive. When I say that to Trey, he squeezes the living shit out of me. His firm hold adds to the pain rocketing through my stomach, but my excitement is too blistering to let a little pain dampen it.
We find the other half of my shirt under the rockface I climbed without a harness, but Nikolai is nowhere to be found.
When Trey shelters his eyes to peer up, I say, “He couldn’t climb that. I barely made it, and I don’t have a broken leg.”
Trey looks at me like I’m an idiot. “Nothing would stop him reaching you, Justine. Not a single fucking thing.”
When he hands me his shirt and phone, I thrust them back into his chest. “I’m coming with you.”
“No, you’re not.”
I begin my warning with a glare. “I’m not seeking your permission, Trey. I’m telling you this is what I’m doing.”
After rubbing my hands together to rid them of sweat, I grip the first rock. While grumbling about opinionated woman, Trey stuffs his shirt and cell into the back pocket of his jeans before tracing my steps.
With sheer determination fueling our climb, we reach the summit with minutes shaved off my already impressive time and lungs void of oxygen. I’m not the only one wheezing. Trey hold his ribs while he sucks in much-needed breaths. They’re expelled in a flurry when his eyes sling to the side. There is a blob of black in the far right corner of the grassy field. Although distance makes the person’s features unrecognizable, I know it is Nikolai. I’d sense him anywhere.
“Nikolai!”
I sprint toward him, my legs moving faster than my brain can command. My gallop looks like a newborn foal learning how to stand, and my excitement is delivered with a bucket load of tears.
I lose the ability to breathe when Nikolai spins around to face me. He stares at me as if I’m a mirage, like he too is waiting to be awoken from a dream too surreal to be true.
“Ahren?”
Crying, I nod before starting my sprint again. In my elation, his injuries are forgotten. I throw myself into his arms, my heave brutal enough to send us hurtling to the ground.
Nikolai’s midair twirl saves my stomach from any unnecessary impact. It does little for his poor lungs, though.
“I’m so sorry. So, so, so, very sorry,” I apologize between frantic kisses. “I shouldn’t have left you. I should have done as you asked.”
