River was a strong climber, the strongest in the group and more than capable of getting through the Veil. Like the rest of them, the going was slow, and she’d feel like she’d been buffeted around more than a little, but if she kept her head down and kept trudging through, it would be fine.
Only…it shouldn’t have taken her this long.
Easton stood next to the fixed line, watching the minuscule jumps and vibrations indicating someone was moving along it.
“Come on, whisky,” he muttered. “Where are you?”
Easton already knew in his gut something had happened, but the first visual of Jessie’s jacket made his heart drop down to his feet. With a curse, Easton darted down the line, clipping behind a confused Jessie.
“Did you see River?” he demanded over the wind.
“What? Where’s River?” Jessie yelled back.
Snarling in frustration, Easton plunged into the Veil. Going this way was easier in some senses and as difficult—if not more—in others. Instead of the wind driving him backward with every step, making him fight up a steep incline, the wind drove him forward, encouraging a quick and reckless descent that put him at risk for sprained ankles or a broken leg. Not rushing dangerously along the fixed line took all the willpower Easton had.
Yelling her name was pointless, and trying to see her was as pointless. Searching along the line for her, hoping against hope she was sitting in the snow taking a break, Easton moved as fast as he could safely climb.
His carabiner caught on the line, which was strange, but he pulled free, pressing on. He only saw Bree when he was almost on top of her. Bree’s steps had slowed as she struggled to get herself through the same winds pushing against Easton’s shoulders.
“River,” he yelled in her ear so she could hear him. “Have you seen her?” All he got in return was a confused look and shake of Bree’s head. Ben had been staying close to Bree, less than the full section of rope that he should have stayed. It didn’t fail to reach Easton’s attention there were three of them clipped to the same section of the line.
“What’s going on?” Ben asked, fighting to be heard over the screaming of the Veil.
“River’s unclipped. I couldn’t find her tether.”
Easton didn’t have to hear the curse that escaped Ben’s lips: the expression on the other guide’s face showed it all.
“Get Bree out of here,” Easton barked at the other mountaineer.
River’s carabiner must have broken, or she had the terrible misfortune of slipping when unclipping from one section of the line and reclipping to the next. He didn’t understand how that could even happen, with the double safety clip system they’d been using.
The path Easton had set was intended for his entirely right-handed clients to climb with their right hands on the rope to guide them. Only Ben was left-handed, but he would know to stay to the left. River wouldn’t cross the line.
He’d checked the carabiners though. He’d checked every single one because he knew how dangerous this part was. Working his way back, searching for any sign of River, something caused the carabiner he’d clipped to the line to catch. It was a little catch, then the carabiner pulled free. Easton wouldn’t have noticed it, except…that was twice.
At the same spot.
There was something on his line.
Feeling around the carabiner, Easton found something that shouldn’t have been there. Someone had tied something to his line, a place marker.
“Smart girl,” he breathed. “I don’t know what you’re doing but thank you.”
Rapidly pulling a longer length of rope from his pack, Easton tied it off to the fixed line. Then, because he didn’t only have one life he was in charge of up here, Easton did one of the absolute hardest things he’d ever done in his life.
He did nothing.
If Ben and Bree were still moving at the same pace, they were all still on this stretch of the line. Easton didn’t know what he’d find if he found River. But he knew any additional weight would be too much. So he waited, counting slowly in his head, mentally pacing his teammates as they moved through the Veil. As he waited, Easton felt himself grow calm. The gusts beating into his body didn’t matter. The windchill didn’t matter. The knowledge that all around him was a poorly mapped system of crevasses that would be covered in a thin layer of snow, ready to give beneath their feet. It didn’t matter.
All that mattered was River. And somewhere beyond him, River was out there.
The instant Easton’s brain told him Bree and Ben were off the line, he started a sweep downhill, plying out the rope behind him as he made increasingly wider arcing passes. Easton knew what was—and wasn’t—beneath him, and more than once, his muscles locked down on him when the snow beneath his boot crunched down too far. One wrong step could punch him through into emptiness.
One day, this would make a great story. In hindsight, maybe this whole ascent was one long first date.
Midthought, Easton’s blood went cold. There she was, on the ground, not moving.
“River.”
With a low snarl of her name, Easton dropped to his knees next to her. She was so still, at first he thought she was hurt. Sharp relief coursed through his veins when she turned and looked at him.
Then he understood what was happening, why her hands were pushing at him. The angle of her body was wrong, as if a sheet of snowpack beneath her had cracked. Her ax had dug in, but it was dug into the snow.
“Go back,” she mouthed, but it was too late.
The snowpack beneath them dropped away.
Chapter 13
When Easton felt the snow give out beneath them both, instinct had him reaching for River as they both fell.
There was a moment when his stomach lurched, unready for the sudden drop. Then a painful jerk as the tie-off line did exactly what it was supposed to do: it caught him in midair. The breath was knocked from his lungs as their momentum slammed them into the side of the crevasse, his shoulder cracking painfully into a wall of ice.
River screamed once as they fell, but she didn’t panic. If she had, Easton might have dropped her. His hold around her was tenuous as they hung there, dangling over a crevasse they couldn’t see into. The fall had loosened his grip, and Easton could feel her slick waterproof jacket slipping.
“Tie off to the rope,” Easton panted. “River, now, before I lose you.”
River wasn’t panicking, but she wasn’t listening either. The cracking of ice beneath them was audible over even the wind, signifying there was a long, bad drop below. Fear had frozen her in place, one hand clinging to the rope and one arm gripped around his torso, as if she were holding him.
“River, I need you to listen to me. I have you. Is your carabiner broken?”
“No.”
“Let go of me and clip your tether off. I’ve got you, but I can’t hold you for long.”
“You’ll slip.”
She thought she was keeping him on the rope. For a moment, Easton’s heart swelled with sheer affection for her. She didn’t know he was tied off…how could she? It all happened so fast. As far as River knew, they were both dangling. But with both of their weight on the fixed line, Easton could feel it start to give. The fall must have weakened the integrity of the set stakes.
“River, you have to. On three, you’re going to trust me when I tell you to let me go. There’s a loop to clip off to right above your head. Do you see it?” She nodded. “Good. I’m tied off, and I’m not going to fall. One. Two. Three.”
The click of her carabiner onto the rope was the best sound he’d ever heard.
“Good job,” he breathed in her ear. “Do you have your ax?”
“I dropped it in the fall.”
“It’s okay. I have two. Can you reach my belt?”
River nodded, doing as he asked.
“Now, I’m going to d
o something you’re not going to like, but I need you to climb up the rope first. Crampons into the wall, set the ice ax in but not too deep. Like climbing the waterfall, okay?”
“No big deal,” she mumbled.
“Exactly.” Easton kept his voice as calm as he could. “Listen to me, River. You climb, okay?”
“What about you?”
“River, just this once, trust me. Start climbing, I’m right behind you. When you get to the top, follow the rope back to the fixed line. Get out, okay? I’m right behind you.”
Easton needed her to climb, because she didn’t understand the whole fixed line was about to rip loose beneath their weight. When he pulled his second ice ax out of his belt, watching her start upward, Easton didn’t apologize.
Locketts never said things they didn’t mean.
She looked down at the crack of his ice ax burying into the crevasse wall, then River screamed his name when he unclipped from the rope.
Easton knew what he was good at, and—for lack of a better term—he knew what he was great at. He’d yet to meet a rock he couldn’t free-climb, and he’d done his fair share of frozen waterfalls in the recent years. But free soloing a sheer surface of ice required two axes carefully placed in the right spots. Easton had one. He couldn’t see higher than where he was currently at. Adrenaline had already robbed his arms of strength.
Even he didn’t know if he was capable of ascending in these conditions, but Easton wasn’t done. Not anywhere close.
His crampons dug into the surface, giving him purchase, but the wall was slick, the ice harder than he’d realized. The next time, he’d have to place the ax harder or in a better spot.
“Easton!”
“River, climb. I’m right behind you.”
He hoped. Fear was a part of this lifestyle. Pretending not to be afraid—or being reckless enough not to be afraid—didn’t make a mountaineer. Understanding the risks, feeling the fear, but continuing anyway. That was what made a mountaineer. And boy, was Easton scared. Scared for River, scared for the rest of the team if he fell. Scared for himself. Using that fear to drive himself, Easton kept moving, hoping the ax held as he found new grips for crampons and gloved fingers. Then he jerked the ax out of the wall, praying his holds would last for the moment he needed them to, swinging the ax above his head into the ice.
Swing. Move. Grip. Jerk out the ax. Swing. Move. Grip. There was comfort in the familiar pattern. Visibility was terrible, but this could be any other wall, any other climb.
Then he swung and the ax met nothing. Breathing a curse of dismay, he realized his balance was off. Then gloved hands grabbed his shoulders, pulling him forward and back over the edge. He’d made it, and so had River.
She hadn’t left him. Still safely tied off, River crouched next to the crevasse. Never would Easton underestimate River’s strength, because she grabbed his jacket, dragging him and all Easton’s 220 pounds of muscles away from the edge.
Easton didn’t know if she was hurt, but they couldn’t stay in the Veil any longer. Shoving to his feet, he hauled her up to hers, pushing her to follow the tie-off line back to the fixed line. It was their path out of there. If she could walk, she could climb. But if she stopped walking, he’d get her out of there if he had to carry her.
Traveling through the rest of the Veil was a blur. Her jacket hood in front of him, River’s hand refusing to let go of him, as if she feared he’d be lost if she did. Her instincts were sound, because Easton wasn’t able to see any better than anyone else in this mess.
“Clip on!” she kept yelling at him, but Easton wasn’t going to do that. One slip and a compromised anchor was all it would take to leave her at the bottom of this mountain. One fall today was enough for both of them.
Ignoring River’s repeated requests, Easton pushed them on until finally, the brutal winds changed direction, signaling the fixed line had shifted direction. They emerged from the Veil, stumbling and exhausted. River dropped to her knees, either a fall or because her energy had finally run out. Without thinking, Easton hooked her around the waist, staggering several more meters until they were out of the down sweep of wind coming from the summit.
The others had clustered together out of the wind, but upon seeing them, Bree and Jessie started to rush to their sides.
“No, give them space,” Ben barked, holding up a hand. “Stay back. They might be hurt.”
Which was exactly what Easton was worried about.
“River, are you okay?” His hands pushed at her clothing, checking for wounds from her fall. The ice could cut someone like glass, and the cold could keep them from knowing until it was too late.
There was no saving someone with severe blood loss up here.
Following his own advice, Ben gave them space even as he crouched a few feet away, ready to help if Easton needed him.
She gripped his jacket. “I thought you were going to fall.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Easton told her, pulling her into a crushing embrace. He twisted so his body was in between her and the others, safe in the privacy of his arms. If someone was filming her right now, he’d throw that camera right off the cliff.
“What happened?” Holding her closer, Easton closed his eyes, trying to fill his lungs with the air that wouldn’t come. “Why did you tie something to the line?”
“I dropped the handheld,” River admitted. “I unclipped to get it.”
“You unclipped for a camera.”
“Yes.” And she’d almost died in the process.
It didn’t matter how far up they were or how cold the rest of him was. Easton’s blood burned like fire in his veins.
• • •
At Ben’s insistence, Easton let the other guide go back into the Veil and resecure the stakes they’d loosened. No one knew how long it would take, but Ben was quick and competent. Within an hour, he was back.
“Only the section you two fell on was loose.” Ben offered Easton an apologetic look. “Sorry, man. You must be exhausted, but we don’t want to bivouac up here if we don’t have to.”
No, they definitely didn’t want to stay above the Veil without anything other than the gear on their backs.
Rising to his feet, Easton tried very hard not to let his emotions show as he went over to where River sat wedged in between Jessie and Bree. Both looked worried and defensive, but all three had been involved in the utterly brilliant idea of filming the Veil. He’d never been so mad at a client in his life.
“Are you okay?” he asked River quietly.
“Yeah. Easton—”
Cutting her off, Easton lifted his eyes toward the ice canyon. “We need to go back to camp. Sorry, I know it’s tough after what happened. The adrenaline dump will make you feel like crap, but staying out here without cover tonight will be worse.”
“We should talk about this.”
A muscle in his jaw twitched. “I’m going to get everyone back to camp safely. Then we can talk. The good news is the wind will be at our back, but the bad news is it makes the descent more dangerous. Most falls happen on the way back through.”
Not adding a pointed “usually” took every ounce of Easton’s self-control. The muscle in his jaw twitched again, and only then did he realize his teeth were grinding together.
“Make sure you hydrate,” he told all three. Easton turned and walked back to the entrance to the Veil. “Ben, you’re on point.”
“Sure, East. Whatever you want.” Ben hesitated, then added quietly, “You’d tell me if you got banged up in there.”
“Banged up but not hurt.” Easton spat on the ground. “So mad at her, I can’t see straight.”
“Unclipping for the camera was a bad call, but any of them would have done it. They’re rabid about this movie, man.”
In that moment, Easton couldn’t have given two craps about their documentary. “Set a str
ong pace. River might be on the bad side of an adrenaline dump, but she’s a fast climber.”
Ben nodded, eyes flickering beyond Easton’s shoulder. Sure enough, she had followed.
“Umm, I’ll go do…the thing.”
Snorting at Ben’s inability to be subtle if his life depended on it, Easton ignored River.
River was great at many things. Being ignored was not one of those things. She lasted all of three seconds of standing at the corner of his eyeline before stepping directly in front of him. “You really aren’t going to talk to me.”
“Nope.” Not until he knew he wouldn’t start yelling.
“Then fine,” River snapped. “Because I have some things to say to you, Easton Random-Middle-Name Lockett.”
Jaw dropping in sheer astonishment, Easton turned to her, incredulous. “You’re mad at me?”
“Yes.”
River’s voice shook as if she were fighting to hold in the emotions she wore etched into her face, clear as day. “What happened today, that’s on me. And you were amazing. You saved my life, and I am grateful. I’m so grateful, and I’m so impressed by you. I hate that I put you in harm’s way, and I’ll never make that mistake again.”
The words were right, but beneath them was a silent undertone that made Easton’s eyes narrow. “But,” he pressed.
“But I am so angry with you.” Stepping up to him, River raised furious eyes. “You unclipped from the rope too, Easton. You could have fallen. You could have died.”
She was stunning on a bad day. On fire, she was all Easton could see, furious or not. And yes, a smarter man would have backed down, but he wasn’t a smarter man. No, Easton stood nose to nose with her, unwilling to be railroaded.
“Yeah.” A growl escaped his lips. “At least I unclipped for something worth dying for. You did it for a paycheck.”
River opened her mouth, then she clamped it shut. “I know, okay? I know it was wrong to go for the camera. But money is not what this climb is about for me.”
“You want to fight about this?” He stepped back, unwilling to tower over her when they were fighting. “Then we’ll have a nice big blowout down at camp. You can scream at me to your heart’s content. But until we get back down there, I’m still in charge of what’s happening here. Get your gear. We’re leaving.”
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