“Isabella!".
The name tore out of Liam, raw and useless against the night.
Pebbles clattered, then silence took their place.
The river below spoke in its lower register, careless as always.
“Ropes," he shouted, already stripping off his coat.
“Torches.
Now.".
Guards crashed through brush, words tangling with branches.
“Alpha—".
“Ropes," Liam repeated, voice edged like a blade.
“Down the west face.
Two teams to the bend.
Search both banks.".
“The current," a captain warned.
“It's high from last rain.".
“I know what water is," Liam snapped.
“Move." He slung the rope around his torso as if it were a sash of office and stepped toward the lip.
Two men grabbed him.
“Alpha, no.".
“Let go," he said.
“It's a blind drop," the captain said, breathless.
“Let us set anchors.".
Lia
