Page 130 of Nothing But Air

“I saw how you were with Teague. Testing me. Seeing if I’d still want you. If I was still committed.” His voice dropped. “That’s why you kept taking his side. Kept defending him. You were making sure I’d fight for you.”

“I took his side because he was right.”

“You were testing me.”

“I was disagreeing with you.”

“This morning when you took my side—I knew I was winning.”

“There’s nothing to win. This isn’t a competition.”

“Everything is a competition.” His wild gaze landed on her. “And I’ve already won. I removed Landon. I’ll remove Teague. And then it’ll just be us. The way it was always supposed to be.”

Eden looked at him—really looked—and saw it clearly for the first time.

The certainty in his eyes. The absolute conviction that he was right. That they belonged together. That everything he’d done—the murder, the sabotage, the violence—was justified.

There was no reasoning with this.

She turned and ran.

Didn’t think. Didn’t plan. Just bolted toward a group of rocks, toward anywhere that wasn’t within reach of Kyle’s twisted fantasy. Her feet slipped. Her lungs burned.

His hand caught her arm after maybe ten yards. Tightened.

He spun her around, wrenched her arm up behind her back. Pain shot through her shoulder, her wrist—sharp and immediate.

The gun pressed against her spine.

“Don’t.” His voice was low. Hurt. Betrayed. “Don’t make me do this. I don’t want to hurt you, Eden, but if you’re going to choose him over me, over everything we’ve planned?—”

He twisted harder, forcing her to face him.

Something in her wrist screamed. Eden cried out.

Over Kyle’s shoulder, a shadow emerged from the rocks just before a large branch cracked over his head.

His grip released as he staggered. The gun stayed in his hand, but his focus scattered. Eden stumbled forward, cradling her wrist against her chest.

Marcus stood behind him.

Blood streamed down Marcus’s face from a vicious head wound—Kyle must have hit him earlier, left him for dead. But he’d managed to swing hard enough to drop Kyle to his knees.

Marcus swayed, the branch slipping from his fingers. His eyes were glassy—pupils uneven, that dangerous sign of serious concussion. He’d burned through whatever reserves had gotten him here.

“Run.” His voice was barely a rasp. “Eden?—”

Then his knees buckled, and he crumpled to the stone floor.

Then Teague was there.

He’d dropped his pack and disconnected the rope, but he still wore the harness when he hit Kyle like a linebacker, driving him back across the stone.

A steady rain hit Eden’s face as the storm broke.

Thunder cracked overhead. Then the sky opened up. Rain came down in sheets, in walls, soaking her to the bone in seconds.

She couldn’t see them clearly through the downpour. Just shapes struggling on the limestone—dark against darker, rain turning everything to chaos.