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Since I don’t want to waste time arguing, I shove it into my mud-encrusted pocket, struggling with the grubby zipper before it finally seals.

“Take this as well, just in case,” Hawke says, holding out his hunting knife.

I balk, having last seen it used to decapitate the snake, but Zander doesn’t hesitate to strap it onto his belt as he asks, “What happens tomorrow? I assume it’s not a straight shot to the extraction point?”

“Your morning will be pretty easy,” Hawke says, his finger back on the map, tracing the dotted line. “Keep going northwest, and you’ll find another slot canyon. It’s a dry one this time—part of an abandoned mining route.” He pauses. “I mean, itshouldbe dry. After all the rain...” His brow furrows, before it smooths again. “It’s naturally eroded for quick drainage, so as long as there have been a few hours since the last downpour, you’ll be able to pass through it without problem. Just remember what I said about flash floods, and if it starts raining while you’re in there, get out, fast.” He looks at me and adds, “There are no crawl spaces this time. Some small caves and narrow walls, but nothing that’ll traumatize you.”

“I’m holding you to that,” I mumble.

His mouth quirks, but then he goes on, “After the canyon, you’ll have another few hours of hiking before you reach this: your last obstacle.”

Zander and I both lean in, and despite my inability to read the map, not even I can miss the line squiggling across the land.

“Is that a river?” Zander asks, frowning.

“Sort of,” Hawke says cagily. He doesn’t expand, though, only says, “There’s a suspension bridge already in place, but it’s old—reallyold. There’s no telling how long ago it was used. So to be safe, my team has gone ahead of us and rigged some ropes into place that’ll keep you secure while crossing it.”

I remember Hux mentioning something about that yesterday. At least one of our upcoming tasks will be safe—relatively speaking.

“Once you’re free of the bridge, head straight through the trees and you’ll see a small clearing where the chopper will land.” Hawke taps the map one final time, right where the circle is. “And that’s it, adventure over.”

Silence falls as everything he told us settles and processes. I can’t believe we’re going to do this—I can’t believe wehaveto do this. I want to argue that we can wait for the earth to dry out and then find a way back up to the cave without risking another mudslide, but the weak spring sunshine isn’t going to make quick work of that, and with more rain coming, there’s no way to know how many days it would take. I also can’t forget how we had to climb a sheer cliff during our hike up the mountain yesterday, and we no longer have long enough ropes to do that again, let alone a grappling hook and jumar. The cave simply isn’t a feasible option. But that leaves us having to dothis—Zander and me taking off on our own in search of a rescue.

My eyes unconsciously slide to him only to find him already looking at me. After what he said last night, and what he now knows about my own tragic past, he’s the last person in the world who I want to be stuck with while Hawke and Bentley rely on us to get help. I don’t care that he sought me out this morning, that he has some explanation for his decision to drive while intoxicated—there’s nothing he can say that will justify what he did. But even though the cameras are gone and I no longer have to keep up a pleasant charade for the sake of our bargain, our new circumstances mean that Istillhave to set my resentment aside, if only so we can survive what’s ahead.

I didnotsign up for this.

Not even Ember in all her fangirling excitement would have signed up for this.

And yet, here I am.

Hereweare.

All I can do is make the most of it and try my hardest to avoid dying. If that means I have to grit my teeth and partner with Zander for the next thirty-four hours, then so be it.

My face is hard as our eyes remain locked, and I wonder if he can read what I’m thinking in my expression—and how much he’s experiencing for himself. Is he as frustrated as I am? As nervous? As determined to survive so we can get the hell out of here and never see each other again? I can’t tell. All I know is that this rescue mission is resting squarely on our shoulders, and no matter what, we can’t fail.

On that thought, I turn back to Hawke and Bentley, offering my quiet but firm vow: “We won’t let you down.”

Equally solemn, Bentley says, “We know you won’t.”

Hawke refolds his map and hands it to me. “Remember, five o’clock tomorrow. If you’re not there in time?—”

“We’ll be there,” Zander says, his voice so full of confidence that even I believe him.

Hawke looks proudly at us both. “You have everything you need within you to make it through all that’s ahead. Believe in yourselves.Trustyourselves.” He pauses. “And trust each other. You’re stronger together than you are apart. Don’t forget that.”

Neither Zander nor I look directly at each other, though we both nod our agreement.

And then, with a final promise that they can count on us, we leave Hawke and Bentley behind as we wander off into the wild, with nothing but uncertainty ahead.

It’s been hours since Charlie last spoke to me.

At first, the silence was natural while we processed the unexpected change in plans, but as we squelched our way through the forest, it grew to the point that it’s no longer comfortable.

I’ve tried to engage her in conversation, but there might as well be a gaping chasm between us. I desperately want to clear the air by sharing my full story, but her defenses are so solidly built right now that I can tell she won’t be receptive to anything I say. My only consolation is that there’s no rush anymore—the cameras are gone, so there’s plenty of time for me to explain what really happened the night of my DUI. Until she’s ready to listen, I can deal with the tension between us, even if it does mean there’s nothing to distract me as we head toward the route marked on Hawke’s map.

When we finally stop for lunch, I’m tired, hungry, and aching not only from the physical strain of the last few days, but also from all the bumps and scrapes I received as we slid down the mountain. I’m also itchy as heck and chafing in places that should never be chafed, thanks to the dried mud covering every inch of my body. Charlie must be feeling the same, because when we halt upon reaching a small, clean stream, she immediately kneels on the bank and begins scrubbing her flesh. I join her, both of us washing as best as we can without risking hypothermia. We’re not particularly successful, but when we stand, shivering, we can at least see each other’s faces again.