I must be on a ledge that’s part of the cliff.
I glance out my driver’s side window one last time, my lungs burning and screaming for oxygen. But the pain starts to numb when my eyes snag on something silver glinting in the distance outside my driver’s side window.
My heart plummets as fast as my truck did when the realization hits.
The last thought that crosses my mind before my eyes close and my body surrenders is that my vehicle isn’t the only one the river has claimed.
FORTY-FOUR | COLTEN
My body is hurled into a free fall.
Not the good kind where your stomach dives, tossing you into an addicting adrenaline rush. It’s the type that slams your heart into your gut when you realize the nightmare is a living, breathing thing.
“Fuck! Taryn,” I bellow in the cab of the Aston Martin as I slam my foot on the gas pedal, trying to keep my eyes focused on the approaching curve through the heavy rain obstructing my view.
Yet all I can concentrate on is her.
The terror flashing through her eyes.
The fearful thoughts swarming her head.
The thought of her beautiful body being hurt in any way floods the sides of my vision with red.
But she is. She must be with a fall like that.
It’s a thirty-foot drop to the water, and as I start to slow the car, so I don’t follow her off the cliff, my dread devours me.
“Siri, call Cameron,” I yell, the valuable seconds ticking by before my car answers with, “Calling Cameron.”
Each ring rattles my bones, but then he answers the call. “Did you find he—”
“I need you to call 911 and get them here as fast as possible. Taryn—she…”
Cameron’s tone is laced with alarm. “She what?”
Oh, fuck.
How the hell am I going to get her out of this?
It could be thirty minutes before first responders arrive, and we don’t have that long—a few minutes at most.
“Her truck went off the cliff.” My eyes burn, my hand clutching the wheel as if I can shatter it into a million pieces, exactly like my heart is.
“Oh, shit! Brennan,” he shouts, not bothering to remove the phone from his ear. “Call 911 and get them here now.”
“What?” Brennan’s muted, confused reply drifts through the phone from wherever he is in the house.
“Do it now,” Cameron snaps. “Taryn’s truck went off the cliff!”
I attempt to swallow the anxiety, but it stays glued to the inside of my esophagus. “We’re going to need a helicopter, Cam,” I manage to say with an obstructed windpipe as I fling the door open.
“Wait,” Cameron says frantically. I pause. “What are you going to do?”
He already knows the answer to that question, and I don’t have to think about it. “I’m jumping in.”
“Are you fucking kidding? That drop—”
“We’ve cliff-dived plenty before,” I rush out, “And there’s no other fucking option, Cam! Unless you want her to drown—”
