Page 108 of When the Silence Breaks

“There,” Holt said, more to himself than to her. “That’s our chance.”

So one chance was all they had?Lord, we’re in your hands.

The plane descended rapidly toward the dark patch. Holt guided it, controlling the Cessna as it fought to glide steadily through the wind. Trees at the edges came into focus, closing in around them, growing terrifyingly near by the second.

“Can you really land here?”

“We’re about to find out.” His tone sounded grim. “Brace now!”

Sloane folded forward, crossing her arms over her chest, heart hammering. The plane stayed in a controlled glide, but they were coming in fast—too fast. Trees whipped past the windows.

“Come on,” Holt muttered, wrestling the yoke. “Just a little more...”

The first impact jolted through the fuselage as they clipped something—a tree, Sloane guessed. The Cessna tilted dangerously to one side before Holt somehow corrected. The second impact was worse. They bounced once, twice. Something tore away from the plane with a metallic shriek. Sloane bit back a scream as they slid forward, the world outside a blur of shadow and lightning.

Finally, with a sickening lurch, they stopped.

For a moment, neither of them moved. The only sounds were the drumming of rain on the fuselage and her ragged breathing. Not just hers, but Holt’s.

“Are you hurt?” Holt’s voice broke the silence.

Sloane did a quick mental inventory. “I don’t think so. You?”

“I’ll live.” He was already unbuckling. “We need to get out. Now.”

“Why? Is something—”

“I smell fuel.” His words were clipped, urgent. “That means a leak. Possible fire risk.”

Holt forced his door open against the wind and rain. Sloane fumbled with her seatbelt, fingers clumsy with adrenaline, before managing to free herself. She grabbed her purse and pushed on the door at her side—nothing. The frame had warped.

“I can’t get it open!”

“This way.” Holt motioned for her to follow him.

Moving toward him, she clambered over the console, heart pounding, and tumbled out after him. Feet on the ground, she followed him out into the storm.

The rain hit like needles, instantly soaking through her light-pink sweater. Lightning revealed their surroundings in brief, disorienting flashes—trees, rock, the crumpled fuselage of the Cessna looking utterly abused. They’d come down in a narrow clearing, the wings chewed up by trees on either side.

She couldn’t see much, but she wanted a better look at the man who’d just saved their lives. She wasn’t sure she’d ever met anyone so ... capable under such pressure.

“This way,” Holt called over the wind, gripping her elbow to guide her away from the aircraft. They stumbled across uneven ground, the growing darkness between lightning flashes nearly absolute.

Fifty yards from the plane, Holt pulled her down behind a fallen log. “Wait here.”

“Where are you going?” Sloane grabbed his sleeve.

“Back for the emergency kit.” He didn’t look away from the wreck. “It’s stowed in the back. I had to get you clear first. Stay put.”

“Grab my duffel!”

Then he was gone, swallowed by the darkness.

Sloane huddled against the log, rain plastering her hair to her face as she watched the shadowy outline of the plane. They might have survived the crash, but they weren’t out of this yet. Her body shivered uncontrollably.

Holt reappeared moments later, a pack slung over one shoulder. He’d barely made it halfway back when lightning struck a tree near the wreck.

The flash was blinding. The boom shook the ground beneath her. When Sloane could see again, horror seized her asthe tree—burning despite the rain—toppled directly onto the Cessna.