Page 71 of Walking Away

Jason closed his eyes. For one fleeting, unwelcome moment, he pictured Izzy’s face—the way she’d laughed beside Caitlin, so sure she’d beaten him. A dull ache stirred beneath his ribs. She didn’t have to go like that.

He was about to speak when a brief ping broke the quiet. A new message.

He opened it. A short audio file.

Evan’s voice first, calm and quiet: “You said you wanted proof.”

Then—just a breath later—the faint, distant scream.

It ended in seconds. The SUV sat in silence, broken only by the soft tick of the cooling engine.

He had never gone this far before to get what he wanted. Not once. But this was different. People were screwing with his life—his world—and that changed everything. He could almost hear his father’s voice, steady and unyielding, the way it used to sound across a dinner table where no one dared argue.

The world doesn’t hand you what’s yours, son. You take it. And if someone stands in your way—you remove them.

Jason’s throat worked as he swallowed the echo, the words fitting too easily now.Necessary.That’s what his father would’ve called it. Necessary.

Balance restored. The world was back where it belonged—under his control.

Chapter 41

Freefall

Scout

Scout turned to stone as he saw it—Evan’s hands shoving against Izzy’s shoulders, sending her tumbling backward into open air. Her scream ripped through the gorge, echoing down the ridges like it would never end. The sound carved straight into his chest.

Izzy… God, no.

For a heartbeat, he couldn’t move. The world tilted out from under him. Then instinct slammed back into place.Move.

He bolted forward, boots hammering the dirt. Skidding to the edge of Fork Ridge Overlook, he braced his palms against the rough stone. Cold wind rushed up from the gorge, sharp with the tang of wet granite and distant rain.

Below—maybe fifteen feet down—Izzy lay sprawled on a narrow rock shelf. A tree limb jutted just above her, streaked with blood where she’d struck. Her arm bent at an unnatural angle, her temple gashed, her body frighteningly still—until her fingers twitched.

“IZZY!” His shout tore across the gorge. “Hang on! I’m coming!”

She didn’t answer. Panic clawed at him, but he forced himself to focus. Rope. Anchor.Now.

Scout yanked his coil of line from his pack, looping it fast around a sturdy oak rooted near the overlook. He cinched it tight, clipped in, and grabbed his radio.

“Unit Six to Dispatch: Fork Ridge Overlook. Female over the side. Initiating rappel; request SAR and medevac. Fire to secure landing zone at trailhead.”

“Copy, Unit Six. Rescue and air support en route.”

He shoved the radio back and started down, boots scraping rock, gravel sliding away beneath him.Don’t slip. Don’t you dare slip.

Dropping to the ledge, he fell to one knee beside her. Blood streaked her hair; her lips were pale, her breathing shallow. A jagged branch had torn her jacket and skin, leaving a deep gash across her side.

For one stunned second, guilt speared through him—too slow, too late.She’s alive. That’s all that matters.

He pressed two fingers to her neck. A pulse—faint but steady. Relief hit so hard it nearly dropped him.

“Izzy, it’s me. Scout. Can you hear me?”

Her lips parted, a thread of sound escaping. “Yes… hurts…”

“I know, sweetheart,” he said, brushing damp hair from her face. “Don’t move. Rescue’s coming. You’re not alone. Not for one damn second.”