Page 95 of Nothing But Air

“That,” he said, pushing to his feet, “I believe.”

They rappelled down as the afternoon stretched toward evening, the heat easing as shadows crept across the canyon floor. The hike back was easier than the morning’s tense march—comfortable silence broken by easy conversation about the rock, the route, the way the light painted the limestone.

Eden could see the camp ahead. Bedrolls bright against the neutral stone. Gear bags clustered near the fire ring.

Xander stood near a small fire, radio pressed to his ear. His posture was rigid. Focused.

Eden’s stomach clenched.

“What’s wrong?” Teague dropped his pack, already moving. His gait shifted from tired hiker to alert ranger in an instant.

Xander held up one hand. Static crackled from the radio.

Then Sierra’s voice cut through. High. Strained.

“—can’t wake him?—”

More static.

“—trying but?—”

Her words dissolved into interference.

Eden’s legs locked. Her heart hammered against her ribs.

The climber’s worst fear.

“Who’s hurt?” Teague was already beside Xander.

“Sierra, slow down.” Xander’s voice stayed level, but his knuckles had gone white around the radio. “Tell me what happened.”

Static. Then fragments of Sierra’s voice—breathing fast and uneven.

“Trey fell?—”

Crackle.

“—leg—thinks it’s broken.”

The signal strengthened.

“But—”

Her voice cracked. Then dissolved into white noise.

“—so much blood—won’t respond?—”

Eden’s world tilted.

Trey. Landon’s little brother. The one with his smile, his laugh, his easy confidence on the rock.

“Still can’t reach Noah at the station?” Teague reached for the radio.

“These radios should reach the rim from anywhere in the canyon.” Frustration bled through Teague’s calm. “Something’s wrong.”

“Sierra.” Xander’s tone sharpened. “Let me talk to Liam. Can you hear me?”

Static.