Page 38 of Rescue in Misty Mountain

I laugh. “Thanks, H.”

“I’ll cancel the extra key to my apartment.”

“Keep it. I might visit.”

“You better. I expect updates. Full gossip. Photos of hot mountain man required.”

“You’ll get them.”

We say goodbye, and I stare at the blank screen for a long moment.

Then the door swings open and I turn. “You’re back early?—”

But it’s not Gage. Instead, Jesse bursts in, cheeks red, the badge on his shirt half-hidden by a bandana.

“Where’s Gage?” he asks.

My stomach twists. “Gone. He got a call about an eagle. There was a rockslide near the ridge. He left about twenty minutes ago.”

Jesse freezes. “Jesus. That’s what I was afraid of.”

“What? What’s wrong?”

He pulls out his phone, holds it up.

A map. An alert. Red.

“It wasn’t just a rockslide. There’s a wildfire. It started low, but it’s moving fast with the wind. The call just came in.”

He stares me in the eye. “It's heading straight for the ridge.”

The blood drains from my face. “He’s out there alone.”

Jesse meets my gaze, his own face pale. “Not if we can help it.”

Whiskey watches from the couch, eyes wide and worried.

I crouch beside him, press a kiss to the top of his fuzzy head.

“Keep the other animals safe, buddy. I’ll bring him home.”

TWELVE

GAGE

The fire rages on the other side of the tree line. The wind screams through the branches, sending thick waves of heat and smoke.

The fire moves faster than I expect. It consumes the brush. I push harder, muscles burning, lungs raw from ash.

The eagle is out here. Somewhere. And if I don’t find her soon, she’s not the only one who might not make it back.

My radio is almost out of battery. My water is nearly gone. Still, I keep going.

I spot her just past the ridge. She’s perched awkwardly on a low branch, one wing dragging, her body tense. The poor thing is trapped by her injury and panic.

“Easy,” I murmur, crouching low. “I’m here.”

She flinches, feathers rising. I inch forward to move her into the carrier?—

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