They just hadn’t been strong enough to break free once the rocks blocked that freedom.

Cain was beside her in an instant. His hand pressed forward. “Hell, yes. ”

Eve started to smile. They were going to make it out of there. They’d be safe.

But then Cain’s fiery eyes turned back to her. Why was there no relief in his gaze?

“Eve . . .”

“Get us through the rocks,” she told him, knotting her fingers into fists. “Do whatever you have to do, but get us out.”

The rest of the mountain might collapse on them. She got that. But if they didn’t try, if they just sat in the dark and did nothing, she was guaranteed a slow death. “Get us out,” she said again.

Cain rose. Pulled her to his feet. Then he wrapped his arms around her and tucked her chin against his chest. “Keep your head down.”

She nodded against him. His heart thundered beneath her ear.

His body grew warmer against hers. His bare flesh heated, warming like a furnace.

She saw the flash of fire that seemed to come straight from his body—a flash that ripped around her and circled them, twining like a snake.

The fire revealed her prison. Barely five feet. A wall of earth where the tunnel had been. Destruction. Decay.

Buried alive.

The fire swelled around her. Swelled, focused.

“Close your eyes,” Cain said.

She didn’t. She wanted to see every moment.

Her head tilted, and her gaze cut toward those heavy rocks. The fire lunged at the rock wall, a snake striking. Again and again.

The rocks began to shake. Dirt fell from above.

The fire swelled higher. Burned so bright.

The mountain trembled around them. The ground rocked. The walls shook. And the dirt kept tumbling down. Cave-in. She knew it was happening, but there wasn’t a thing they could do to stop it.

Cain shoved more of his fire out, blasting at those rocks. Blasting . . .

And the mountain seemed to explode.

Eve sucked in a gasp of air, but choked on dirt. The thick dirt was everywhere, showering on her, smothering her. She tried to push against it, but couldn’t.

Then she was being pulled, yanked from the dirt, still held tight against Cain’s hard body. He pulled her, heaved her through the falling earth even as he pushed her toward the fire.

Into the fire.

Eve felt the whisper of the flames around her. Heard the crackle as it smothered out the rush of falling earth. Her hands grabbed onto Cain and she held him as tightly as she could.

She was tumbling, rolling, and he was with her. His body twisted around hers as they thudded onto the ground.

Eve opened her mouth. Sucked in a desperate gulp of air. The earth shook around her.

Cain scooped her into his arms. Raced away. She looked back over his shoulder and saw the small opening that he’d carved into the mountain. An opening that barely looked a foot wide. How had they gotten out of there?

The opening closed. The ground kept shaking.

And Cain kept running. He ran and ran with her—until they fell into the icy cold water of a lake.

“You . . . left her down there.” Richard stared at the guard. Stuart Montgomery. Ex-Marine. Ex-police detective. A guy who should have known how to carry out a simple order without screwing everything to hell and back.

The alarm was beeping, a constant shriek. It had started beeping as soon as the facility trembled.

“We were trapping him, sir,” Montgomery told him. Sweat beaded the guy’s forehead. “We didn’t know she’d run back to his side.”

“Your mistake,” Richard snapped out. Those trembles had been constant for the last five minutes. How long could Eve last in that hole without air?

Not long enough.

“Hand me your gun,” Richard ordered.

Montgomery stiffened. “The phoenix did not escape, sir. He’s still down there. . . .”

“And he’ll stay there until he manages to dig himself out.” Which he would do, Richard had no doubt about that. “But she can’t survive that long.” He’d given a simple order. How hard was that to follow? Retrieve Eve Bradley.

Not kill her.

“Give me your weapon.” The commanded was snapped from between Richard’s gritted teeth.

Two other guards stood behind Montgomery, waiting tensely, with their eyes on Richard.

Slowly, Montgomery lifted his gun from his holster and handed it over.

“Thank you.” Richard stared at Montgomery, wondering what to do with the man before him. Shooting him instantly was so tempting, but what purpose would it serve?

His father had always taught him that life and death had purpose—meaning that nothing was to be wasted in this world. “Take Mr. Montgomery down to the main lab for holding,” he told the other guards.