Not now.
His eyes locked on to the clearing below—trees swaying wildly, rain turning the ground into a muddy blur. The cabin was half hidden, its roof slick and dark, a fragile thing clinging to earth that no longer wanted to hold it.
A rumble rolled through the air—deep and ominous.
Crew’s gaze snapped to the slope beyond.
Mud was moving.
Not a trickle. Not even a slide.
A wall.
Church’s head whipped around. “You see that?”
Crew’s mind went cold and clear. “The cabin’s about to go.”
He pulled the helicopter into a tight circle, fighting the wind, the rotors biting the air as the gusts tried to shove them off course. His pulse spiked, but his hands stayed steady.
They had seconds.
Church unlatched his harness. “Let me go in,” he said. “Lower me in the basket. I’ll get Fern.”
“No.” The word came out like a growl. “I’ll get her.”
Church grabbed his shoulder, hard enough to cut through everything. “Listen to me. If you land, we might not get off this mountain alive. You need to keep this bird steady. You need to keep us in the air.”
Crew’s throat tightened. He stared down at the clearing, at the cabin, at the slope beginning to give.
Fern. The precious love of his life.
A thousand thoughts tried to stampede through him—Conner’s death, Reed’s voice, the storm, the fear of failing again. He couldn’t—
He couldn’t lose another person.
He couldn’t lose her.
He forced a breath into his lungs and forced himself to think like a pilot, like a man who kept others alive. And he knew.
Church was right.
“Fine,” Crew bit out. The word tasted like blood. “Go.”
Church’s mouth tightened, but he nodded. Professional. Calm. The kind of man Crew used to trust with his life without thinking.
And could trust again.
Church clipped into the basket harness with fast, practiced movements while Crew held them in a hover that felt like balancing on the edge of a knife. The wind clawed at the helicopter, pushing, shoving, demanding failure.
Crew refused.
He adjusted, compensating, muscles locked, sweat on his spine. “Hurry!” he snapped.
Church crouched at the open door, rain slamming into him. He looked back once. “You keep it steady.”
Crew’s jaw popped. “Just bring her back.”
Church gave a grim nod and stepped into the basket.
