“One square mile surrounded by reality.” His gaze softened, a smile on his lips. “But now it’smysquare mile—and you’re at the heart of it.”
The love Sasha saw in his eyes gave her heart wings.
Epilogue
Ten Months Later
Chamonix, France
IASC World Championships
Sasha waved to Darius,who sat with their families in the stands. Then she turned to face the climbing wall, willing herself to focus on the route, doing her best to shut out distractions. Her hands shifted, mimicking the motions she would make, as she mentally worked through one move after the other.
There was a dyno low on the wall, followed by a thin section with crimpers that her fingers, raw from a week of intense competition, weren’t going to like. After that, there were some sloping forms that would challenge her because of her height, forcing her to make big moves. That section led to a forty-degree overhang with a stretch of pinches and underclings that would require raw strength. That was the crux. After that, a series of mixed holds led to a final dyno to the top.
How many times in her life had she done this?
So many.
She stopped that train of thought because she knew it would make her emotional. Instead, she searched the route for places where she might get a little rest. She used her last few seconds to think through that crux.
“Back to iso,” one of the judges called.
She and the other climbers made their way back to isolation, where they surrendered their cell phones before being locked in, men in one room and women in the other. Isolation prevented anyone from getting additional beta on the route or watching online to learn from their competitors’ mistakes.
Before the attack, time in iso used to feel like a backstage party, when she got to hang out with her international friends. But she’d been wearing rose-colored lenses then, assuming that everyone adored her as much as she adored them. That hadn’t been true.
Daryna and Akari were once again in the finals with her. A young German climber, Elise, had made it, too. Last year, Elise had won the youth world championships, and now she was competing against adults. Ye-Jun Kim, a South Korean, was a newcomer. Inés Allard, who was French, had the support of the hometown crowd. Olivia Campbell, who came from the UK, and Marta Diáz, from Spain, rounded out the eight women who’d reached the finals.
They had at least a forty-minute wait until the men’s competition was over, so Sasha focused on hydration and calories.
Daryna sat beside her. “How is your skin?”
Sasha set down her water bottle and held up her hands. She’d had to tape three fingers on her right hand and two on her left. “I need to retape them. I’m afraid they’ll start bleeding the moment I hit the first crimper.”
Daryna had tape on two of her fingers. “Someone needs to invent liquid skin that you paint on like nail polish that magically heals you.”
“I’d buy a gallon of that.”
One by one, the other women drifted over, but Sasha just wanted to be alone. She waited until they were deep in conversation. Then she walked over to a bench, stretched out, and closed her eyes as if sleeping, using the time and space to run the route through her mind. It wasn’t that she didn’t like the others. Far from it. But the conversation always seemed to turn to Maritza in the end.
Sasha had worked hard to put the attack behind her. Maritza had been sentenced to seven years in prison, while Hans Reiter had gotten twelve. Both had been banned from entering the US. It didn’t feel like enough to Sasha, but she’d done her best to put them out of her mind for good, focusing on climbing and her new life with Darius.
She was now the strongest she’d ever been, and she was determined to make this her best year of climbing yet. She’d competed around the world, consistently winning gold. Then in May, she’d achieved her dream of setting a new women’s world speed record for free-climbing El Capitan. If she could win today’s event, she would prove to herself and the world that she had triumphed over the tragedy of last year.
It all came down to this competition.
Don’t psych yourself out.
It was just another wall. Another route. Another climb.
About forty-five minutes had passed when the doors opened, and the judges called them out. One by one, they ran out onto the floor, where an announcer introduced them to the crowds, Sasha going last because she’d be climbing last.
“Sasha Dillon, United States of America!”
The crowd roared, the sound giving her a burst of adrenaline.
Sasha walked onto the floor, waving, her gaze seeking Darius once again. He sat in the second row, waving to her, Max and Gus in front of him, his parents to his left and her family to his right. Her mother blew her a kiss, so Sasha blew one back.
