Noah wiped the rain from his face.“Any other ideas?”
“There is another route approaching from the west, but that means backtracking all the way to the station first.”Liam pulled out his water bottle.Downed a gulp.
Teague crouched, studying the laminated map.“There’s a path farther down.It’s longer, drops us into a wash that is no doubt full right now, but it’ll get us to the caves in under an hour.”
“Oh goodie.I love crossing washes in storms.”Liam’s voice was deadpan.“But crossing a wash is better than falling.Let’s move.”
Meg turned.Followed Liam, who was now in front as they backtracked.If possible, his pace was even more brutal than Noah’s.
Her thighs burned, but she kept pace.Her breath steady.Controlled.
Thirty minutes later they came to the narrow wash.A dry riverbed now swollen with runoff.Chocolate brown.Churning.The opposite bank was only about ten feet away.But the water was moving fast.
Noah dropped his pack, then grabbed a sizable stick and walked to the water’s edge.He poked at the ground under the water—testing depth, checking for holes.The water swallowed Noah from the knees down, tugging at him.But he didn’t even sway.
He made his way back.“Should be easy enough, but it’s swift and the current is strong.Lose your footing and you’ll be fifty feet downstream before you can blink.”
He paused.Met Meg’s eyes.“Meg, you’re lightest—it’ll hit you harder.”
Meg stepped forward.Chin up.“I can handle it.”
Could she?
Noah shook his head, his tone firm but kind.“Not worth the risk.”
Liam lifted Noah’s pack from the ground, slung it over his own shoulder.“I’ll take this.You carry her.”
“If I remember right”—Teague tilted his head, grinning—“you lost your pack in your last river crossing.Maybe I should carry it.”
Liam rolled his eyes.“Hilarious.You take Meg’s.And let’s get this done.It’s all bringing back bad memories.”
Bad memories.Nimue.The Bratva.Another wash.Another desperate crossing.
Noah nodded, turned to Meg.“Climb on my back.I’ll get you across.”
Meg hesitated, pride warring with practicality.
The water churned, brown and relentless.
She wasn’t weak.She’d kept up this far.Hadn’t complained.But Noah was right.Compared to the guys, she was small.And if the current swept her off her feet, then this would turn into a rescue.
She met his gaze—steady and calm.Patient.
She nodded.Acceptance.Trust.
She handed her bag to Teague and climbed onto Noah’s back, her arms looping around his shoulders, her legs tucked against his sides.His warmth cut through the chill of her wet clothes.
Noah adjusted his grip under her knees.Stepped into the wash.The water hit his shins.Then his calves.Rising.But he moved steadily, testing each step.
Teague and Liam followed.
“You okay back there?”Noah’s voice was low over the water’s roar.
“Yeah.”Meg’s chin was near his ear.“This is the warmest I’ve been in an hour.”
He chuckled, the sound vibrating through his back.“Any anxiety?”
Her chest was calm, her breathing even.No tightness.No racing heart.She trusted Noah.His strength.His careful steps.
