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Only to find that the spot where they’d stood was filled with rubble.

And there was no sign of Sarah.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Ryan paced the old brick tunnel. He felt caged. Trapped. Helpless. A tiger behind bars, measuring his prison with each prowling step.

And he wasn’t the one with a wall of rubble between him and freedom.

He stared at the mess. Hating it. Wanting to pummel it into submission. Knowing it wouldn’t help.

There was no way to get past the cave-in. Not without bringing the rest of the ceiling down on himself. There was also no way of knowing how far it extended into the tunnel. Or if it was even possible to dig his way through.

Or dig Sarah out.

Fuck!

Ryan doubled over as his vision blurred. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be. She wasn’t buried under the rock.

What if she was buried alive?

What if she was under there? Bruised. Broken. Whispering his name.

He stood, curling both hands into his hair as he stalked back and forth in front of the candle at his feet.

Think.

He needed to think.

There had to be another way around the collapse. They’d passed other passageways, maybe one of those merged with this tunnel, on Sarah’s side of the cave-in. The problem was, there was no logic to the way the catacombs were laid out. Even with his sense of direction, there was no guarantee he’d choose the right tunnel—even if there was one.

No, it was too risky. The odds that he’d just waste time instead of finding her were too high to take. He had to find another way.

Stalking back to the rubble, careful of where he stepped because standing on a sharp rock wouldn’t help his situation in the slightest, he examined the cave-in again.

Bricks, rubble, dirt, and dust. A wall of tightly-packed stone. And it was still coming down. Trickling through the gaps above. The whole thing was far too unstable to touch, let alone dig through.

“Sarah!” he bellowed for the millionth time. “Sarah!”

Think. You need to think.

He crouched down at the base of the rubble. Okay, what did he have that he could use to dig her out? Anything? There were sacks back in the mushroom cavern. A cooler chest in the teens’ den. Some bones scattered around the place. Empty spray paint cans… And that was it.

There were literally no resources that could help him now.

He hung his head, clasping his hands on the back of it. He’d never felt so helpless in his life. Was she hurt? Unconscious? Dead?

Hell no!

He had two choices—find a way to her, or try to find the way out to get help. How was he supposed to decide? Especially knowing the wrong choice would cost her life.

They were no better off than the couple whose bodies he’d found in the mine. His woman was trapped, and he had to decide whether to escape for help, or stay and work to free her. Was this what that couple went through? Is this how the man had felt when he couldn’t save the woman he loved?

All this effort. All this time, struggling to get out of the catacombs and they’d ended up right back where they’d started—Sarah was trapped and he was useless.

And wallowing in self-pity wasn’t going to help anyone.

He shot to his feet. “Sarah!”