Page 101 of The Lost Guardian

There was a brief pause.

“That’s one way to meet Atahualpa,” she responded.

“Because I’d be dead?”

“Because you’d be dead.”

He chuckled, then took a deep breath.

For the second time in the last hour, Santiago willingly dangled himself off the edge of a mountain.

Slowly, he made his way down, promising to take the friend who had introduced him to rock climbing out for a dinner—or seven.

Without warning, the root in his left hand snapped under his weight, and he slid inelegantly downward, shoes scrabbling against the rock face before finding a new grip. His breaths came out fast and sharp, heart hammering in his chest.

“Rios?” Ali cried out.

“I’m all right!” he assured her.

“Keep coming. I think you’re almost there,” she encouraged him.

She did sound closer, but between the fog and foliage, it was hard to make sense of anything. His perception of reality was completely distorted.

His arms trembled, more from fear than fatigue, but Santiago didn’t stop. He forced himself to climb. One hand under the other.

Without warning, his left foot found solid ground. It was so unexpected that he recoiled at first, then tapped down again. Yup, solid. He tested his weight, every muscle relaxing as he let go of the roots.

And when he turned, she was there.

Her hair was a tangled nest atop her head. Dirt was smeared over her forehead and cheeks. Part of her shirt was ripped, near the hem. But she seemed…all right. Santiago had never felt relief so powerful.

Moving on instinct, Santiago scooped Ali into his arms. Her face burrowed into the bend where his neck met his shoulder, and he pressed his cheek against her head. When he pulled away, he couldn’t believe she was really there.

Gently, he tilted her chin to look at the friction burn across her temple and cheekbone, wincing in sympathy. His hands swept over her shoulders, then down her arms, searching for breaks or blood.

She shivered.

Shock, Santiago thought, pulling her into his arms again.

“You came for me,” she murmured against his chest.

“Of course,” he said, stunned that she would think otherwise. “I would never leave you.”

“You scaled a mountain. The Santiago Rios I met last week didn’t even want to jump out of a first-floor window.”

“Second floor,” he corrected, and he heard her snort.

“Barely,” she said but kept her face pressed into him, arms pulled tight around his center.

Santiago drew long circles up and down Ali’s back with his open palm, content to hold her for as long as she’d let him. Time passed, minutes or hours.

She was real. There. All right.

It was a fucking miracle.

She pulled back from him, breaking the trance, waking the dream. He blinked at her slowly, but she only smiled.

“It’s actually a good thing we made it down here,” she said. “Because I found something.”