His pulse spiked. Zach shifted, craning his neck, searching the immediate area.
Empty.
Where—
Movement dragged his eye up. Further along the cliff face.
Emma.
She was climbing the path that led to higher ground; her figure small against the massive rock formations. The storm battered her with every step. Even from here, he could see her struggling—hand braced against stone, body angled into the wind.
Unsteady. Exposed.Alone.
“Emma—”
The word tore out of him, raw and desperate. His voice cracked halfway through, swallowed instantly by the howling wind.
She didn’t stop. Didn’t turn. Kept climbing.
Awe flooded through him. She could have stayed here with him, semi-protected from the wind. Instead, she’d chosen to climb a cliff in the middle of a storm. She did it for him, to get help of some kind. She’d chosen him over her own safety—was risking her life for him.
No.
Zach planted his palm against the stone and pushed.
His arm shook. His shoulder screamed. The world tilted violently to the left, and he collapsed back onto the ground, gasping.
Not good enough.
He tried again.
This time he made it to his side. Then his elbow. His vision grayed at the edges, but he kept moving, forcing his body to obey. Knees under him. One hand. Then the other.
The ground swayed. Or maybe that was him.
Zach braced himself against the rock face and dragged himself upright. His legs buckled immediately. He locked his knees, gripping the stone so hard his knuckles went white, and waited for the world to stop spinning.
It didn’t. Not completely. But it steadied enough.
He looked up again. Emma was further away now. Higher, almost to the top. The path she’d taken wound around the cliff face toward the northern point—the highest overlook on this part of the island.
She shouldn’t be alone.
The thought came with absolute certainty. Not just tactical assessment, though that was part of it. This was deeper. Instinctive.
She shouldn’t be out there. Not now. Not like this.
And beneath that—colder, sharper—the realization that made his blood turn to ice.
What if Marcus was here?
If Marcus were here—and every tactical fiber in Zach’s being said he was—then Emma climbing alone to an isolated position was exactly what the bastard would want.
Exposed. Vulnerable. Easy to stage as an accident in a storm. He had to help her. But could he?
He wasn’t at full capacity. Not even half. He could lose, leaving Emma unprotected. Most likely would lose. Didn’t matter.
Zach pushed off from the rock.
