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“Nyland!”
Griff froze, dust clogging his lungs. This time when he snuck a glance under his arm, the face of the man chasing him was raised, scrutinizing him. He recognized the man from the news, when Abbie had testified in court.
Horton.
The British MP who’d collaborated with Raptor. The same Horton who’d pursued Abby through Trygnhorny hospital and nearly killed her and Eli.
“Horton. Aren’t you supposed to be dead and floating somewhere in the English Channel?”
A chuckle. Grime smeared Horton’s face. “There’s nowhere to go Nyland.”
Griff rested his forehead on icy rock, the pain in his arm fading from his consciousness as he allowed energy to flow through his arms and legs. This rock had endured aeons and would continue to do so, a source of unwavering strength even after Griff himself was long gone.
The understanding untethered him. Fear and pain would no longer hold him back. He had a reason to go on. Jo.
Horton grunted. “Give it up, you’re surrounded.”
“One on the ground and you alone on the rock face?” Griff mocked.
Horton made a chuffing noise. “I like to look people in the eye if I’m going to bring their life to an end. It’s more personal.”
“You don’t have to do this.”
“I’m doing this to help people.”
“Like your wife?” Griff had read she’d suffered terribly from PTSD before taking her own life. Horton’s motivations were complex. Griff had sympathy for the man. Couldn’t they find a resolution?
“Leave my wife out of it. You’re trying to stop something that has so much potential for good. Can’t you see that?”
“Letting people die at the bottom of the ocean for a lie is not a force for good.”
The click of a well-oiled gun hung in the air between them. Cold sweat chilled Griff. Horton was deciding for him.
“This is the end of the line, Nyland.”
I’m out of time. Griff swung for the loose boulder, dropping his entire weight on it as a bullet detonated where he’d been suspended only moments before. The boulder shifted as his leading hand closed on the next handhold, swinging him out of the boulder’s path.
A sharp crack shattered the air as the rock fell. Horton swore loudly as the boulder ricocheted downward, dislodging a rain of rocky shards from the unstable face. More debris followed, increasing in density and volume, swiftly morphing into a rumbling unstoppable rockslide that obliterated the frustrated whine of the dogs.
Griff flattened his body, his fingertips bloodless, his toes dead from gripping. Disturbed rock flakes filled his nostrils like a thousand angry bees as he took punchy gasps, fighting to secure himself with minute handholds, struggling against gravity and fear.
He was sure he was going to die, but at least he might take Horton with him and bring this to an end.
A scream and then the air reverberated with the thud of meat on unforgiving rock.
Fuck. Griff pressed his forehead to the cliff wall, dust settling in every pore, clogging his eyes and mouth. Mineral tasting grit ground between his teeth as the slide of earth and rock slackened. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he finally opened his eyes. Disoriented, he squinted against the muted light. The snow below him was filthy with rock and debris from the landslide’s wake.
Horton’s prone form lay partially buried under a mound of rubble. One hand lay exposed, pistol resting in his limp palm. His dogs paced nearby, letting out anxious barks as they nosed at their unmoving master. There was no sign of the second man. Probably spooked by the landslide.
Sickening pain throbbed through Griff’s body in waves. He took gasping breaths, sweat trickling down his back, his heart thundering, sure Horton would groan, roll sideways, take aim with his gun, and end it all.
But Horton remained motionless, and the dogs settled at his side, whimpering.
Tremors ripped through Griff’s arm and thighs. Reality doused him like cold water. He couldn’t hold on much longer.
Gotta finish this.
He stretched upward, feeling for the next grip.
