Page 9 of Mountain Summons

It was just the two of them in the cockpit. This was the perfect time to let Beau know he knew the colonel’s daughter. But again, that selfish, angry piece of him rose to the surface, and he stayed silent. Guilt assaulted him, but he told himself he was doing the right thing. Because a distraction was the last thing Lena needed.

Tristan nodded. “All good,” he said, clearing his mind as he struggled to put down the bird in the worsening storm.

By the time he managed the landing, Beau had selected a pear-shaped area of terrain for each of them to cover. It was testament to how worried they all were that they’d be searching alone, instead of in pairs, at least until morning came and they could add more people to the search. “Stay in touch with your radios,” Beau instructed, his voice steady but tight. The rain blurred his outline, the beam of his headlamp catching on the heavy droplets as he gestured to his team. “We’ll regroup here in thirty minutes. But I want everyone checking in every ten.”

Tristan barely heard the last part. He was already shouldering his heavy pack. “We’ll be back soon,” he muttered, patting the helicopter lightly on the side.

Cold. The wind bit through his clothes instantly, sending an icy shudder through his bones. Tristan pulled up the neck of his uniform jacket as high as it went. The rain had turned the ground into a treacherous mess of slick mud and loose scree.And Lena was out here in this. Alone. His heart hammered in his chest.

“Can you hear me, Lorenz?” Beau asked, as soon as they were all out of sight.

“Yes, Mom,” came Lorenz’s clipped reply. Tristan stifled a laugh. “Loud and clear,” Tristan said, when it was his turn. Alex and Hugo weren’t as quick and got an angry growl from Beau in response.

Tristan adjusted his headlamp, narrowing his focus.Find her. That was all that mattered now.

He moved carefully but quickly, scanning the uneven ground, checking for gullies and rock outcroppings where Lena might have taken shelter. His boots sank into the mud with each step, and he had to brace himself against the wind, his breathing harsh in his ears.

Ten minutes in, his radio crackled.

“Tristan, report.”

He clicked the button. “Negative. Nothing yet.”

The storm swallowed his voice the moment he released the button. He pushed forward, his light cutting through the darkness, illuminating the rain-slicked rock. This wasn’t the Col des Montets he knew and loved.

The search continued. He checked in again, listening as the rest of the team did the same. Around them, the wind howled. The storm was getting worse, not better, and Tristan realized if they waited much longer he might not even be able to get the helicopter off the ground.

And then Beau uttered the words Tristan had feared. “It’s too dangerous. We have to go back. We’ll come back at first light.”

Tristan opened his mouth to acknowledge, like the rest of his teammates were doing, but the words stuck in his throat, refusing to form. And he knew he had to respond. Tristan mightbe a risk taker, but he respected the hell out of theCommandantand always followed Beau’s orders.Always.

But not tonight. He thought of Lena as he’d last seen her, the pale column of her throat exposed as she laughed at something he said. So full of life. He wouldn’t turn back and leave her out here alone.He couldn’t.

The radio crackled again, Beau’s voice sharper this time. “Tristan. Report now.”

When Beau started swearing at him, Tristan tapped out the letters O.K. in Morse code, then lowered the volume on his radio to swallow Beau’s voice. He kept on walking, swiveling his head lamp right and left and high and low. And he knew he was a fool, because the area was larger than one man could cover in a week. The chances of finding her on his own were infinitesimal at?—

Ahead of him, a broken piece of ledge caught his attention. He was going to have to go higher to navigate around it.

His thoughts were interrupted by a sharp sound.

Tristan froze.

His pulse slammed in his ears, competing with the relentless pounding of the rain. He held his breath, listening.

At first, there was only the wind, rattling through the trees, and the unending rain. Then—there it was again. Faint, but unmistakable. A shrill whistle, repeated three times. Coming from below. From below the broken ledge.

Lena.

He surged forward, moving faster now, his boots slipping on the treacherous ground, almost ending with him on his ass. The mud sucked at his feet, and the rain blurred everything outside the narrow light from his headlamp, but it was hard to care about any of that.

“Lena!” he called, his voice barely carrying over the storm. “Lena, can you hear me?”

A single whistle this time, in reply to his voice. Weaker, it seemed, than the one before.

Tristan’s stomach clenched. Was she hurt?

He reached the edge of the ledge and looked down. His light cut through the darkness, revealing jagged rocks and a steep, rain-slicked slope.Fuck.Did she roll down this slope? Just how hurt is she?

---