Page 91 of Reset

The only reply he got was the sound of shifting rock.

He’d told her he’d protect her. That he’d get her out of here. That he wouldn’t let anything happen to her. When, in reality, this was all his fault. If he hadn’t dropped the candle. If he hadn’t left them in darkness when the tunnel started to fall. Maybe then, they’d have had enough warning to run together.

This was on him.

By denying he was still dealing with fallout from the coma. By believing everything would be okay and he could function the way he’d always done. By ignoring reality, he’d risked the woman who’d filled a hole inside of him that had been empty since she’d been wiped from his mind.

This was all his fault.

“Sarah!” he hollered. “Sarah!”

It was a six-hour walk to the exit. That’s what the teens had told him. They’d wasted an hour following the wrong graffiti. Which meant it was now a seven-hour walk to get help.

Seven hours was a lifetime.

And that wasn’t even counting the time they’d waste getting back to this spot. Realistically, they were looking at fourteen hours before he was back with help—at least. That was a helluva long time to leave her in the dark, afraid and alone, wondering if he’d forgotten her.

Damn it.

He wasn’t thinking straight. He didn’t have to walk—he could run. Crap, not with a candle for light, he couldn’t. The flame would go out seconds into his sprint. Those bastard boys. They had no idea what they’d done to Ryan and Sarah.

But, walking fast. He could do that. Maybe even a gentle jog. As long as the candle stayed lit, that was the main thing. At least he could cut a couple of hours off the walk out of the tunnels. And he could run back, if he managed to get a flashlight. So that would take it down to six, seven hours total—if he didn’t hit an obstacle that slowed him down.

If the teen hadn’t lied about how to get out.

He wished Sarah was there. She’d have calculated the odds of each choice and told him the best option. But then, if she’d been there, he wouldn’t need the information to begin with.

Pacing back to the rubble, he listened for any sign of her.

Nothing.

“Sarah!” His voice echoed off the brick walls. It was the only sound that came back to him.

This had to be the worst decision he’d ever faced. Leave her? Try to find her? Stay put in the hope he’d be able to dig through the rubble, once the cave-in settled? He wanted to rage. To lash out. He wanted something solid to deal with, a clear-cut challenge he could face head-on.

Instead, he had risk percentages running through his mind, and a gnawing, clawing, screaming fear in the pit of his stomach.

He didn’t have time for indecision.

And neither did Sarah.

Where the hell was Callum’s voice when he needed it?

“Fuck!” he roared.

Okay, okay, he could do this. He had to do this.

“Sarah,” he called loudly. “I hope you can hear me. I’m going to get help. I’m not abandoning you. I’ll be back. I’ll get you out. Stay where you are. Don’t move, okay?”

Waiting for a reply, he heard only silence.

Ryan wiped his face and blinked to clear his eyes. Dust must have gotten to him because they were leaking.

With one last look at the rubble, he sheltered the lit candle in his hands and started to jog up the tunnel. Each step he took away from Sarah was like a nail being hammered into his chest.

This was worse than losing her in the water. This felt like he was abandoning her. Like he was letting her down, even though he knew he wasn’t. It was torture.

Yet, he kept putting one foot in front of the other.