Page 87 of Power's Fall

Montana stood at the mouth of the cave, shaking his head, even as he knew they had no other options here. It was either walk in or hang out here until Sinaver and his militia captured them. The idea that the Spaniard wanted Vadisk for answers, answers his husband wouldn’t want to give, meant it wouldn’t just be capture.

It would be capture and torture.

Vadisk and Dahlia were just a few feet inside when, as one, they stopped and turned toward him.

“Fuck,” Vadisk cursed, changing direction, Dahlia still holding on to the back of his pants. “Montana,” he started. “We don’t… We don’t have any other options.”

“I know. I know.” Montana glanced over his shoulder, fighting like the devil to move. “And I swear to God, I’m trying to make myself walk in there.”

Dahlia reached out, taking his hand in hers. “We’ll help each other. I need you to be my eyes.”

Montana hadn’t thought there was a single thing that could convince him to step into the cave.

Dahlia found it.

She did whathestruggled with, swallowed her pride and asked for help. That was when he realized there was nothing he wouldn’t do for her. One week in, and he was already head over heels in love with his wife.

Montana held on to her hand, loosening his grip when he saw her wince. “Sorry,” he mumbled, taking a few steps into the cave. “Maybe Vadisk should guide you.”

Dahlia shook her head. “You. We’re doing this together.”

Vadisk pulled a large flashlight out of his pack, cupped his hand over the front, and then clicked it on. Some light escaped around his fingers, giving them enough light to see by. He led the way, remaining just a step in front of them, moving slower this time, as if anticipating Montana’s change of heart.

His husband was no fool because Montana was sure as shit considering turning back and making a run for it.

“Vadisk, can I use my flashlight?” Dahlia asked.

“Not yet. Just another two or three meters.”

The floor of the cave was a sheet of hard-packed wet sand that muffled their steps, and he focused on the slight crunching sound it made as they walked.

“Now,” Vadisk said.

Dahlia’s free hand fumbled with the clip-on flashlight Vadisk had given her earlier, turning it on and illuminating the sand and rocks under their feet. She clung to his hand, pushing closer to him. Montana wasn’t sure if Dahlia was planning to be the first line of defense in halting his escape or if she was fighting her own panic at not being able to see much. Maybe—probably—it was both.

He wanted to ask if she was okay, but he was struggling to draw in air, his lungs seizing. He broke out in a cold sweat, shivering in the chilly dampness of the cave.

Montana glanced over his shoulder, tripping over his feet and stumbling to a stop. He shouldn’t have done that. Shouldn’t have looked back. The mouth of the cave was no longer visible.

He tried to swallow, but his mouth had gone dry as dust. The walls were closing in, the space getting tighter and tighter. The thudding of his heart was loud in his ears. Too fucking loud.

His eyes flew around at the rock walls encompassing them. They looked…loose. God, what if the walls started to collapse? They’d be buried alive in the rubble, drowning in an airless tomb.

Dahlia released his hand, grasping his arm and pulling it around her waist. Then she wrapped her own arm around him. She was tucked tight to his side, but he couldn’t glance down at her, couldn’t check on her. He had to keep his eyes glued to the walls, just in case they started to cave in. He had to be ready to run, ready to get them out of here.

Vadisk paused for a moment, turning to check on them. Rather than shine his flashlight directly in their eyes, he focused it lower, beneath their waists, so that he could see them without blinding them.

Montana had expected Vadisk to comfort and reassure Dahlia first. Though, given it was pitch-black in the cave, they were all essentially in the same boat—only able to see what the flashlights illuminated.

When his husband’s gaze landed on him and remained, Montana realized he was the weaker link.

“Fuck, Montana. You need to breathe.” Vadisk stepped in front of him.

Dahlia released him, moving next to Vadisk. He adjusted the flashlight, pointing it at Montana’s waist. That must have illuminated him enough for Dahlia to see because her gaze now focused on his face, when a second ago, she’d been looking just to his left.

She reached out, her hand landing on his chest, directly over his heart. Then she grabbed one of his hands and placed it over hers. “You’re having a panic attack. I can hear it. Breathe with me,” she said softly. “In and out.”

Montana tried to do what she asked, but he couldn’t concentrate, too focused on the walls. Was that a bit of gravel coming loose? Was the cave starting to collapse?

---