Page 65 of Mountain Challenge

Isla. Please hold on. I’m coming.

“I’m going in,” Ry said.

“Fucking slow down, Ry,” Beau said, his deep voice low enough not to carry over the storm. “We’re going to do this the right way. No foolishness.”

Ry’s gaze darted between the two men—Beau, tall and steady, despite the storm raging around them, and Hugo, all brute strength and sharp instinct, ready for action. The three of them were a group forged in teamwork, but tonight, they were more than that. Tonight, they were everything to Ry—willing to give everything to rescue Isla and Laura. But if anybody had to risk their life, it should be him, and not Beau and Hugo. “I’m going in,” he repeated.

“Not on your own,” Beau said, in a voice that brooked no disagreement.

Ry’s breaths came out ragged. He didn’t want to fight Beau. He owed him more than he could repay. But he wasn’t stopping now, and he wasn’t waiting. Because he could feel Isla was close, and that trumped all other considerations.

“What if it were Valentina or Ren?” he asked, striking a low blow.

Beau’s eyes narrowed. His voice lowered even further, low enough now that it barely reached Ry, even though he was standing inches away. “I fucking know what you’re going through, Ry. I went through the same thing during the earthquake, when Valentina and Ren went missing. And I’m not trying to stop you. Hugo and I are with you, every step of the way. But we need a plan. We can’t just barge in there. If they’re here, we don’t want to do anything to put Isla and Laura at risk.”

Fuck. Beau was right, as usual. They couldn’t endanger Isla and Laura. “What do we do?”

“We need a distraction,” Hugo said, pulling his gloved hands into fists. “Leave it to me. You two circle around back, find a way in.”

“You’re going to walk right up to him in this storm? How?”

Hugo smiled a wolfish smile, though his dark eyes were dark with tension. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll keep him busy.”

“Alright,” Beau said. “But don’t you fucking dare get yourself killed, Hugo. Distract him and then get the hell out of here.”

They synchronized their watches and pulled on their ear pieces. Ry and Beau jogged off towards the ridge. The wind howled like a living thing, flinging icy snow in their face. With every step, their feet sank down to their shins in snow. Ry thanked his lucky stars that the moon continued to shine despite the storm’s best efforts. Not bright enough to counteract the storm, but enough for them to see where they were stepping.

Beau looked at his watch. “Thirty seconds. We wait for Hugo’s signal. Then we move in. We get the women and get out again. No distractions.”

No distractions. Ry could read between the lines. No killing anyone, is what Beau meant. But Ry couldn’t guarantee that. “If he’s hurt them, he’s dead,” he said. Again, that violence coming to the fore, making him realize this was who he really was. His true self coming out.

As they approached, the faint glow of lantern light became visible from one of the hut’s small windows. Ry’s heart raced. There was no longer any doubt. Therewassomeone inside.

The sky lit up as, on the other side of the small hut, Hugo turned on his head lamp. Then came his shout, loud enough that it could be heard through the storm. “Help! Help!”

Ry and Beau huddled, their backs to the stone wall, waiting for some response from within. At first, nothing happened. Then the light inside the hut moved. A man’s shadow passedthe window, moving towards the front of the house, the lantern swinging slowly in his hands.

Hugo’s strident shouts continued. “Please, I need help! My wife is trapped!”

The light disappeared into a front room, but now there was a second voice as well, a voice Ry knew well. “What the fuck’s going on?”

Ry didn’t wait. He reached for the window frame and shoved upwards, hoping it was as rickety as it looked. He’d break the glass if he had to, but that would make noise. He increased the pressure—felt something pop—and then the window moved up. He stopped when there was space for a body to go through. “I’m going in,” he said, getting a leg over the windowsill before Beau could say anything.

A roar broke through the storm. Then another one. Shots, coming from the front of the house.Fuck. Still straddling the windowsill, Ry crossed gazes with Beau. “Go,” Ry said. Beau nodded and took off running back into the night, towards Hugo.

Ry stilled, listening for any sound coming from within the house, but all was silent. He stepped inside a small bedroom, landing silently on the wooden floor, and closed the window behind him, locking the storm outside. He heard noises coming from the front of the hut, but there was nothing he could do about that, other than hope Hugo and Beau stayed safe.

Ry turned his headlamp on its lowest setting, giving himself only the bare minimum light he needed to not trip over any of the furniture. The room smelled musty, as if nobody had stepped inside in a long time. It’d been a child’s bedroom once, judging by the single bed and the sports paraphernalia hanging on the wall. In a couple of strides, he reached the door, pausing once again to listen before pulling it open to see a hallway with three other doors—two locked ones and one open one. Ry ignored the open door, which led to what looked like a small white and greenbathroom, and focused on the other two doors. He pulled over the one closest to him.

Disappointment filled him at the sight of an ancient, empty kitchen, illuminated only by the moonlight streaming in through the window … Then his breath caught in his throat at the sight of an open trapdoor on the floor by the corner, leading to a set of old stone stairs. Ry turned his light on high and rushed down. The musty smell of damp wood and cold stone assaulted his nostrils. His heart almost stopped at the sight of the thick metal door at the end of the stairs. If he’d harbored any doubt, the sight of the three modern iron sliding bolts that had been drilled at different heights would have eased them.

Heart hammering inside his chest, Ry reached for the first bolt. It creaked as it slid back, but Ry wasn’t worried about the noise anymore. Speed mattered now. His breath fogged with the next exhale—it was cold down here, too cold. He gave the second bolt a pull. It was stiffer than the first one, but eventually came loose with a dull grind.

He was down to the final bolt. His heart in his throat, he shivered at the thought of what lay beyond the door—the thought that Isla might be not be there, or that she might be hurt. Or worse. But Ry couldn’t afford to hesitate. Not now. He yanked on the bolt, and was inside the room before the metallic clank had stopped resonating.

He squinted in the semi-darkness at a slim, human shape huddling on the floor. His heart skipped a beat.Isla. He took a step forward, then started as something struck him from behind. He shifted sideways on instinct, and the blow that had been meant for his neck, hit the back of his shoulder instead.Careless. He knew better than to storm in without clearing the room. He turned, simultaneously reaching for his attacker’s wrist while slamming him against the wall. Then something struck him—some instinctive recognition, his heart sensing what his physical senses hadn’t yet been able to identify.

Isla.

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