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Staines was smaller, which gave Adam an advantage—but what really mattered was who got their hands on the rifle on the floor.

Adam grasped Staines’s arms and pivoted, using the momentum to toss the guard across the chamber.

Dawson squeaked and pressed himself further into the corner. Staines’s impact made the artifacts on the shelves rattle. The mask that Lopez had hurriedly shoved back into place slipped loose, crashed to the ground, and shattered.

Adam winced. Ellie was gonna kill him for that.

Survive first. Get chewed out later.

He yanked his attention from the broken artifact and lunged for the rifle.

Staines was already scrambling upright. He launched himself toward the weapon as well, forcing Adam to settle for kicking the gun out of reach.

The Enfield spun across the floor, hit the wall, and fired.

The round cracked against the obsidian mural, splintering off a chunk of it, and then ricocheted to the ceiling. The sound of the discharge was like a thunderclap.

Staines snapped his gaze to the gun.

Adam threw himself at the guard, neatly shoving both of them through the doorway into the forward chamber, where they rolled across the floor.

The arches that lined the facade of the temple looked out over an increasingly violent twilight of thick purple storm clouds that flickered with lightning.

Adam’s back slammed into one of the columns, breaking him loose from Staines. He scrambled to his feet on the platform at the pinnacle of the temple as the wind tugged at his shirt and hair.

The plaza was illuminated by the orange sparks of a flickering campfire below him…waytoo far below him.

Adam’s head spun as shouts rose, echoing up to the temple.

Somebody had noticed them up there… which meant that the clock was ticking.

He swallowed a wave of queasiness and forced himself to focus. He had to get rid of Staines. Then he could worry about the rest of his problems—like Dawson, or the possibility of tumbling to a painful death.

Staines stood a few steps away. He looked torn between throwing himself into another attack or simply running away.

To his credit, he chose the former.

Adam twisted to deflect the force of Staines’s impact. As the smaller man hit him, Adam grasped him around the waist. He used the momentum to complete the turn—and then let go.

Staines flew from Adam’s arms and hit the stairs of the pyramid.

The guard rolled, shrieking in high-pitched panic, until he managed to snag his hands on one of the tiers. He hung there, scrabbling his boots against the stone until he managed to kick himself up onto a solid perch.

The guard pressed himself against the stones like a man who knew that he had just nearly been chucked off the top of a three-hundred-foot pyramid.

Still feeling uncomfortably light-headed, Adam whipped around—and then froze as Dawson stepped from the temple with the rifle held unsteadily in his hands.

The professor looked disheveled. His eyes were wide and panicked as he hefted the gun up and pointed it at Adam.

“Not another move, Mr. Bates!” he barked.

The gun barrel wavered a bit.

Adam raised his hands as he skidded to a halt.

He kept his eyes on the Enfield. After all, the barrel of a gun was nicer to look at than the long, terrifying drop that awaited him in every other direction.

“You even know how to use that?” Adam demanded.