Page 127 of Nothing But Air

If Kyle moved onto that slope…and the rain started…

But how to get him there without endangering Eden?

“Three minutes.”

God, I don’t know what I’m doing. The prayer was silent. Desperate. Raw in a way he’d never allowed himself to be.

I’ve been trying to do this alone. Trying to be enough. But I’m not. I can’t save her by myself. I need You.

The wind shifted. Carried the scent of rain—petrichor and ozone.

Show me what to do.

From the ends of the earth I call to you, I call as my heart grows faint; lead me to the rock that is higher than I.

Psalm 61:2. The verse tucked in his mirror, written in his mother’s handwriting. The one he’d looked at every morning for years. Reading. Memorizing. But had he ever let the words really take hold?

Lead me to the rock that is higher than I.

Not his own strength. Not his own plans. But trusting that God could see what he couldn’t.

His mind cleared. Not racing. Not panicking.

Just…clear.

And—

Movement in the shadows to the south of Kyle. A figure—wounded, blood streaming from his temple, staggering on legs that barely held him. Marcus. Conscious through sheer fury, adrenaline seemed to be the only thing keeping him upright. A thick branch clutched in white-knuckled hands.

Not dead after all. And running on borrowed time before his body gave out.

He paused behind a group of rocks, waiting for the right moment. But they were too far away. In his condition, he’d never be able to cross the rock to where Kyle stood without being seen. He needed more time. And a distraction.

“All right.” Teague called down, his voice steady. Calm in a way he hadn’t earned but had been given. “I’m coming down. But I need to secure the gold first. In the chest, it will be too awkward. I’ll load it into different pockets of my pack to distribute the weight. Five more minutes.”

“That’s a lot of minutes.”

“It’s a lot of gold. I could toss the chest to you, but I thought you wouldn’t want it scattered across the canyon floor.”

Kyle’s eyes narrowed. “Four. Then I start making Eden uncomfortable.”

“You’re already making her uncomfortable. That’s what happens when you point a gun at someone.”

“Three and a half. Keep talking, it keeps going down.”

Teague moved back to the alcove, watching the clouds. Marcus. The first drops of rain beginning to dot the rock.

Not rushing. Not panicking.

Trusting.

His gaze landed on a grapefruit-sized rock a few feet away. He couldn’t take the gold down, but Kyle had to believe he was. He lifted the rock and dropped it in his pack. Then reached for another.

Three and a half minutes.

Three and a half minutes to trust that the Rock—the real Rock—would hold them. He wanted to believe that would mean rescue. That his half-constructed plan would work. And maybe it would. But he’d cling to the fact that even if the worst did find them, Teague could trust the Rock to hold him.

Strong. Steady. Unchanging.