Page 104 of The Ampersand Effect

Jada’s voice crackled back in confirmation, and Tobin gave Eddie a single nod. She faced forward, bracing herself for the inevitable blast of wind as they rose out of the vacuum.

The gust hit with feral intent. Together, Tobin and Eddie fought it, countering each violent push and coaxing the helicopter to hold steady. They ascended, inch by inch. For a heart-stopping moment, the basket swayed—but then it leveled, staying mercifully stable beneath them.

As soon as the basket breached the cliff ’s edge, Eddie carefully rotated their position and lowered it to the ground.

“Basket released. Victim stable. Awaiting landing,” Jada confirmed from the ground.

Their collective exhale of relief barely lasted a second. The moment Jada reported detachment, the wind retaliated—whipping the loose cable into a frenzied arc.

“Mike, can you pull the cable in manually?” Eddie’s voice was tight with urgency.

“I’m trying! Without the winch, every time I get a foot in, the wind yanks it back out.” The strain in his voice was concerning—but not as concerning as the cadence of fear in his inflection.

“Shit,” Tobin hissed.

“We don’t have time,” Eddie snapped.

“Put us down, Eddie,” Tobin urged. “We can gather the cable from the ground.”

“Mike, forget the cable and strap in. Prepare for a rough landing,” Eddie barked into the mic.

But the wind had other plans. A brutal gust spun them westward, throwing them thirty yards from Jada’s location. Eddie countered hard on the cyclic, fighting to steady the rotation and begin a cautious but urgent descent.

The cable, however, arced in one final, terrible display of freedom and power—and landed directly in the rotors.

If the sound of the wind had been deafening, the cable colliding with the spinning blades was deadening.

“Crash landing in ten seconds! Strap in—feet flat, heads down!” Eddie screamed.

Tobin didn’t think—she reacted. Her movements were second nature—practiced and controlled from years of training. Feet planted. Head down. Inhale. Exhale.

And just before everything went black, one name cut through the chaos—clean, anchoring, absolute.

Grier.

Hours later, Tobin was safe in the bunk room at the hangar. Erik had responded to their mayday and successfully extracted them from the cliff. The downed helicopter had to be left behind—Eddie would have it recovered after the windstorm and returned to the hangar for repairs. While they waited for Erik, Mike and Jada patched up Howard, who was later released to the ambulance for hospital transport to treat the gash above his brow.

After the crash landing, Tobin was flooded with memories of her accident. She managed to stave off a full-blown panic attack, but the anxiety still surged inside her. Her heart rate remained elevated, despite her current safety.

All she could think about was Grier.

All she wanted was to be in Grier’s arms—the safest place she could imagine.

All she needed was Grier’s soothing words, her strong shoulders wrapped around her like a security blanket.

Who was she becoming?

How had Grier infiltrated her so thoroughly, superseding her fear of abandonment with something louder, stronger—this desperate need for survival rooted not just in staying alive, but in reunion?

She’d called Grier the moment she returned. Eddie hadn’t dared stop her—knowing the post-rescue debrief could wait until Tobin had heard her voice. Until she had calmed.

Eddie needed Tobin to make peace with her past—and run towards her future—as much as Tobin did.

Grier had responded immaculately. Tobin had to convince her not to leave work and rush to the hangar. She heard it in her voice— the need to take her into her arms, to prove to herself that Tobin was as okay as she promised. But more than that, Tobin felt the pull in Grier’s voice—the quiet urgency to be with her, to simply show up. To be there, in all the ways that Talia never had.

Grier was not Talia.

No—she was a fucking ampersand.