We watched for the small plane that held the camera crew, and as it neared, I nodded to the guys.

Then I went.

My turns were as tight as possible, covering little to no horizontal distance as I made my way down the steepest part of the slope, blocking everything from my mind except the snow beneath me and the rock above me. Every time I jumped into the air, pivoting my board, my heart slammed, knowing I might not find purchase when I hit.

“Nearing the end,” Alex said through the radio as the rope tightened.

I found the small, flattened spot where the steepest angle ended, and hit my radio. “Going off belay.”

Then I unclipped and stood there as Gabe made his way down the same path. My breath came in gulps, my lungs desperate for oxygen that wasn’t there. Sweat ran in a cold river down my spine, my torso feeling like a fucking oven. I knew better than to unzip my coat, but that didn’t mean I didn’t long for a way to cool down that wouldn’t kill me.

Gabe skidded a few too many times for my liking, sending more than his share of slough down the mountainside.

“Come on, come on,” I urged in a whisper, holding my breath when his last skid was close to a fall.

This whole damn ridge was a no-fall zone.

Finally he made it to my level. “Going off belay,” he said over the radio.

The rope snaked past where I could see on its way back up to Alex.

“Good luck, you two. I’ll see you at the bottom,” Alex said through the radio.

“Be careful on your line,” I told him.

Gabe’s chest heaved as he rested. “Fuck. Me. That. Was. Intense.”

“Just getting started,” I said with a smile. “Sun is shining, powder is good, and I’m ready to drop in when you are.”

He nodded. “Just. Give. Me. A minute.”

“No problem.” I hit the button on my radio. “We’re almost ready to drop in. Everything okay down there?”

“We’re good,” Pax answered after a moment. “Just packing up camp so we can get the hell out of here when you’re done.”

“Good plan,” I answered. “We’ll wait for the plane to come back around and then drop in.”

“Roger that.”

“Rach, is that line still looking the best?” I knew it hadn’t changed in the hour it had taken us to drop this far, but I just wanted to hear her voice again.

“You’re still in the clear,” she answered. “Be careful.”

“Always,” I replied. “Ready?” I asked Gabe.

“As I’ll ever be. Fuck, I miss air.”

“Amen, brother.”

Funny thing about altitude—all the training I’d done in the Tetons, the Alps…none of it rivaled this. The only true training for the Himalayas was the Himalayas.

“Dropping in,” I said over the radio.

Gabe and I fist bumped, and I mentally prepared myself for the toughest line of my life.

It didn’t disappoint. Each turn had to be perfect, thought out, and it tortured my lungs in a way I’d never realized possible.

Then I hit the chute, traversing below Gabe, and felt the adrenaline give way to the sweet feeling of victory.

I was doing it. Boarding the Shangri-La spine wall.

A stream of slough hit my board, and I got out of the way, watching above me to see that the river of snow came to an end before going again.

Another stream fell, and I skidded.

“Landon, watch out!” Rachel cried into the radio.

It was already too late.

I felt the roar more than heard it as snow slammed into my legs, buckling my knees. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!” I yelled, trying to get a grip on the earth that moved as a river beneath me.

Then something hard slammed into me from behind.

Gabe.

I lost all traction, and suddenly I was no longer boarding down the spine—I was carried away by a raging current of snow.

I tumbled headfirst once. Twice. Then I lost count. I flexed, catching the board enough to stop my tumble, but Gabe was long gone.

The snow covered me—devoured me, but our fall didn’t stop, a torrent of ice and snow. I closed my mouth, trying to breathe, but the snow was everywhere as we plummeted.

God. God. God. Don’t let her see me die.

Chapter Sixteen

Rachel

Nepal

Logically, I knew the rotors of the helicopter weren’t beating with the rhythm of my heart. They were faster, almost a whirl, but everything around me slowed as we flew across the snowy ground toward the base of the ridgeline.

It’s taking too long.

I fumbled with the seat belt clasp, my hands shaking.

“Here,” Pax said, his voice calm as he undid the buckle. We touched down, and I flung the door open, jumping to the ground below.

Wilder shouted something to Little John and tucked me under his arm as we cleared out from underneath the chopper. As soon as the bird was in the air—headed back to advanced camp to get more searchers—he grasped my upper arms.

My gaze swung in every direction. There was so much snow. More than I’d ever seen in my life. Landon was under it.

Somewhere.

Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. The chant began in my head and wouldn’t stop, drowning out every other thought as my eyes grew wider and my chest tightened. Was that altitude? Oxygen?

The whole chute had come down, and I’d only been able to keep my eye on the tiny speck that was Landon for milliseconds before he’d been swept away.

“Rachel.”