Page 91 of Dual

The thought is both terrifying and exhilarating. I glance at the canyon edge, measuring the distance. Not here, not now, with Domhnall and Melissa watching so closely. But soon. I’ll find something that pushes me right to the edge of my comfort zone—and beyond.

“Ready to continue?” Melissa asks, checking her watch. “We should start heading back down if we want to make it before sunset.”

I nod, getting to my feet with newfound energy. “I’m ready.”

As we begin the descent, Domhnall walks close beside me, still concerned despite my assurances that I’m fine. I let him fuss, my mind already racing ahead to what comes next.

If fear is the key, then Amangiri—with its countless adventure activities, many of them designed to provide controlled doses of adrenaline—is the perfect place to find Mads again.

And if I can get her back, fuck it, somehow we’ll find a way to stay with Domhnall. Between Mads and me workingtogetherfor once and not at odds, we can solve anything. I’m sure of it.

TWENTY-NINE

ANNA

“The Cave Peak Via Ferratais one of our more challenging routes,” Mike, our climbing guide, explains as he helps me adjust my helmet. “It features the Cave Peak Stairway, which rises about 400 feet above the ground. The exposure can be quite intense, but you’ll be securely attached to the safety cable at all times.”

We’re standing at the base of a towering sandstone mesa.. Domhnall is beside me, being fitted with his own harness by Mike’s assistant, a young woman named Tara. He keeps glancing my way, a mix of excitement and concern in his eyes.

“Are you absolutely sure about this?” Domhnall asks forprobably the fifth time since we signed up for the experience. “We could start with one of the easier routes.”

“I’m sure.” I inject more confidence into my voice than I feel. The truth is, looking up at the sheer rock face we’re about to climb, I’m terrified. But that’s the point, isn’t it? To find the edge of fear, to push past it, and see what—or who—might be waiting on the other side.

Mike goes through a thorough safety briefing, demonstrating how to use the carabiners to stay attached to the safety cable, how to position our feet on the metal rungs, and what to do if we need a break. It all sounds straightforward enough in theory, but my heart is already pounding at the thought of actually doing it.

I hate heights. I didn’t tell Domhnall yesterday because I didn’t want to yuck his yum, but I really, really hate heights.

Which, I suppose, is the point today.

“Ready?” Mike asks, checking our equipment one final time. “We’ll take it slow, section by section. No rush.”

Domhnall gives me one last questioning look, and I nod, squaring my shoulders. “Let’s do this.”

The first part of the climb is challenging but manageable—steep but secure, with plenty of handholds and the safety cable always within reach. Mike leads the way, with me following and Domhnall bringing up the rear. Tara remains at the bottom, monitoring our progress through binoculars.

As we ascend higher, the exposure increases, the ground falling away beneath us. The wind picks up, whistling pastmy ears, tugging at my clothes. My arms begin to tire, muscles burning with the effort of pulling myself up rung after rung. But along with the physical strain comes a strange clarity—a heightened awareness of every movement and sensation.

“You’re doing great,” Mike calls down encouragingly. “We’re almost to the first plateau. Just a few more rungs.”

I focus on his voice, on the metal rung in front of me, and on the steady rhythm of my breathing. One move at a time.

Don’t look down. Don’t think about the drop. Just climb.

Finally, we reach a small plateau where we can rest, a natural shelf in the rock face with enough room to stand comfortably. Mike clips us both to a separate safety anchor, allowing us to move around the space without worrying.

“How are you feeling?” Domhnall asks, his face flushed with exertion but his eyes bright with excitement. “Still good?”

I nod, surprised to find I’m smiling despite the burn in my muscles and the flutter of fear in my stomach. “Better than good. This is amazing.”

And it is, in a terrifying, exhilarating way. I love that I’m doing this with Domhn. The view from up here is breathtaking—the desert stretching to the horizon, the rock formations even more dramatic from this elevation. But more than the scenery, it’s the feeling of accomplishment, of pushing through fear to reach this point, that fills me with unexpected joy.

But still no sign of Mads. The light-headedness I felt atthe lookout point hasn’t returned, despite the much more extreme circumstances.

That’s okay. We still have the Cave Peak Stairway ahead of us—the most exposed, terrifying part of the route.

After a brief rest and some water, Mike leads us up the final stretch to the summit. This section is steeper, the rungs spaced further apart, requiring more strength and confidence to navigate. By the time we reach the top, my arms are trembling and sweat streams down my back.

The summit of the mesa is relatively flat, a rocky platform with 360-degree views of the surrounding landscape. In one direction, I can just make out the sleek lines of Amangiri nestled among the rocks. In another, the distant shimmer of Lake Powell.