Chapter 3 - The Edge of the Ravine
The wind whipped rain across Cara’s face as she stared down into the black void of the canyon. Below, the sound of rushing water mingled with the sickening metallic groans of twisted steel.
She dropped to her knees at the broken edge of the guardrail, ignoring the sharp rocks cutting into her palms. Peering down into the gorge, she spotted a faint, glowing flicker of red through the dense curtain of pine branches about forty feet below.
The car hadn’t plummeted all the way to the rocky riverbed at the bottom. It had caught violently against the thick trunk of a massive, ancient oak tree that jutted out horizontally from the sheer cliff face, tilting precariously over the abyss like a seesaw ready to snap.
“Hello?!” Cara screamed into the storm, her voice cracking. “Can anyone hear me?!”
For a terrifying second, there was only the roar of the wind and the rhythmic dripping of rain.
Then, a faint, raspy cough echoed from the darkness below.
“...Damn it,” a deep, gravelly voice muttered.
“Hold on!” Cara yelled back. “Don’t move! I’m coming down!”
She didn't wait to calculate the danger. She grabbed a thick root protruding from the cliffside, swung her legs over the muddy edge, and began sliding down the vertical slope. Brambles tore at her jacket, sharp stones ripped through the knees of her jeans, and cold mud plastered itself across her face. She slipped twice, skinning her palms raw against the jagged limestone, but she caught herself each time, driven by a desperate, irrational surge of adrenaline.
Within minutes, she dropped heavily onto the slanted roof of the wrecked sedan.
The car was in catastrophic shape. The front end was completely compressed, smashed accordion-style against the thick trunk of the oak tree. The driver’s side door was jammed shut against the tree bark, and gasoline was leaking in a heavy, toxic stream from the ruptured fuel tank, mixing with the rain and pooling around her boots.
Cara scrambled across the slippery metal roof and slid down to the passenger side, which was hanging out over empty space, suspended directly above the dark, churning river far below.
She wrenched the passenger door handle. It was stuck tight.
“Hey!” she cried out, slamming her shoulder against the glass. “Can you hear me?”
Inside the dim cabin, illuminated only by the erratic flickering of a shorting dashboard display, a man was slumped sideways across the center console. His expensive dark suit was torn, his forehead was bleeding profusely down into his eyes, and his breathing was shallow and uneven.
Slowly, the man’s head lifted.
A pair of piercing, slate-grey eyes—cold, sharp, and unmistakably dangerous—fixed onto her through the shattered window frame.
“Who... the hell... are you?” Dante Moretti growled, his voice a lethal whisper, struggling to push himself up despite the heavy steering column pinning his left leg.
Cara didn't flinch away from his gaze, even though she knew men like him routinely executed people for looking at them the wrong way.
“The waitress,” she panted, grabbing the jagged edges of the broken window frame with her bare hands, ignoring the glass biting into her skin. “From Bellini’s. Your wife and her lover cut your brakes. Now grab my arm before this tree gives way!”
Dante stared at her for a fraction of a second, processing her words, his mind working with terrifying clarity despite the concussion and blood loss. He didn't ask questions. He didn't waste time doubting her.
Suddenly, the ancient oak tree beneath them gave a loud, agonizing crack.
The entire car shifted downward another two feet, swinging sickeningly out over the abyss as the roots began to tear loose from the limestone cliff.
“Hold on!” Cara screamed, reaching both arms deep through the shattered window frame, locking her fingers around Dante’s thick forearm.
He was a large, heavy man, built like a wall, easily twice her weight. As she pulled back with all her might, the dead weight of his body strained every muscle and tendon in her arms, threatening to dislocate her shoulders.
“Leave me,” Dante grunted, his grey eyes locking onto hers with grim resignation. “The car is going down. You’ll die too.”
“Shut up and give me your other hand!” Cara roared back, tears mixing with the rain on her cheeks as she planted her boots against the tilting door frame and pulled with a primal, ferocious strength she didn't know she possessed.
Another deafening crack echoed through the ravine as the tree roots snapped completely.
With a final, desperate heave that tore the skin off her palms, Cara jerked backward just as the car broke free from the oak trunk.
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Dante came tumbling out of the window frame into her arms, and together they crashed backward into the muddy slope of the cliff.
Below them, with a terrifying metallic shriek, the black sedan plunged into the dark abyss, disappearing into the churning river below with a muffled, explosive splash.
