Obsessed (Wild Mountain Scots, #1)
Obsessed: Chapter 39

My scream rent the air, and my muscles unlocked. I ran the short distance to the ledge overhanging the waterfall. Desperation ate at me, and I stared into the frozen abyss.

Below, on the rocks, Jude lay spreadeagled, still, and with unseeing eyes open to the drips of water spattering him.

Dead, I hoped.

Where was Lochie? I sobbed, scanning for him. If he’d hit the water, could he have survived the fall? It wasn’t deep, but the jagged rocks were treacherous.

“Lochie!” I screamed.

Clumps of snow plunged into the depths, the edges of the ravine broken.

I couldn’t move away. There was nothing. No sign of the huge mountain man.

I crawled, leaning too far. I had to replace him. Had to.

Max landed by my side, a hand restraining my arm. Blood. He was covered in blood. My brother jerked his gaze around.

“Where the hell did he go?”

“He fell,” I croaked. “I can’t see him.”

“No,” Max swore. “Fuck. Cameron’s bleeding heavily, shot in the shoulder. We have to help them both. I’ve radioed, but we need to move fast.”

Which logically meant helping the man we could see, not the one missing.

“I can’t leave Lochie,” I bit out.

“Caitriona,” came a fierce but strained shout.

I gasped and peered over farther, using my brother as a support. Below, Lochie’s fingers gripped the muddy rock face.

Oh God, he was alive.

He was only feet below us but at a horrible angle under the ledge. I could only see part of him, but I knew he was in a desperate position.

“He’s here,” I uttered. “He didn’t fall.”

The earth under Lochie’s boots crumbled, dropping into the dark rocks below.

Max growled and hauled me back, then took up my position to spot Lochie. “We’ll get ye out. How’s your grip?”

“Bad. And there’s this…” Lochie replied.

Max blanched at whatever he saw. He swallowed. “You’re going to be fine.” He drew back and forced himself to focus on me. “Ropes, Cait.”

“What did he say? What’s the problem?”

“Ropes, I said. Get the rucksacks.”

A clatter sounded, and we both jerked.

Max grabbed my coat and hauled me upright. “I need to lower myself down to fetch him. I’ll need your help. We cannae wait for the others to get here.”

“But your arm.”

“I can support us both until help arrives.

I pressed my trembling fingertips to my lips then nodded once. I couldn’t hold Lochie’s weight. If I tried, we’d both fall. If he was badly hurt…

No, I couldn’t think like that. I flew downhill to where two rucksacks waited in the snow near where Cameron curled on the ground. He breathed, and his eyes were open.

But the amount of blood… His torn jumpsuit revealed the ruin of his shoulder, a pad of some material hastily applied by Max.

“You’re going to be okay,” I told my cousin, forcing my way through utter terror. “People are on their way, do ye hear?”

“Where’s Lochie?” he forced the words.

“Over the cliff edge.” I couldn’t lie, and my voice broke. “We’re going to climb down and get him. Ye just stay calm, okay?”

“Fucking hell. Go, dinna wait on me,” Cameron ordered.

With both bags in my arms, I half ran, half stumbled back to the ledge. Max searched inside them and extracted a coiled rope and a harness.

But with his broken arm, he had no chance of climbing down or supporting Lochie.

“You’ll break your neck,” I said. “There’s only one option. I’ll go.”

“No,” Max argued. “I’m healed enough. I can hold my own weight. His, too.”

A pained intake of breath had us both glancing around. Cameron staggered close and sat heavily, clutching his shoulder.

“Anchor,” he gritted out. “Use my weight.”

“Throw the rope,” Lochie shouted. “It’s about to go. Throw it now.”

Max attached the harness and got into position where he could see Lochie. He swore viciously then unravelled a length and passed the end to me. “Dinna let go. Sit with Cameron. Have him grip onto ye,” he ordered.

I followed the command. Cameron anchored me, his breathing too fast, his pain level undoubtably unreal.

The tang of his blood filled the air.

Max threw the rope.

Almost instantly, it jolted, jerking me and Cameron, burning my fingers where it tore into my skin. An anguished shout came from Lochie, and I could only stare at Max’s expression. Whatever he battled, only resolute purpose showed.

Lochie would survive this. He had to. We’d get him out.

My brother hugged the cliff face, leaning as far as he could. “Grand. You’re doing fine. Kick away. Aye, higher now. Another foot and I’ll reach ye.” He shot a look back at us. “Keep up the tension. Pull on my command.”

I stiffened my muscles. Hauling Lochie’s weight seemed impossible, yet we had to.

“Pull,” Max hollered.

The three of us heaved. Cameron grunted in pain but pushed onto his heels, leaning back. I did the same, standing to take the strain.

“Again,” Max bellowed.

We hauled, dragging the rope several inches through the snow.

“Again,” Max repeated, his throat tight.

All my energy went into the rescue. My ruined hands, my boots jammed into the mountainside. Every inch of my body and soul went into saving Lochie. He was my heart, my one great love. I couldn’t lose him. Wouldn’t.

Max stopped us, breathing hard. “One more time, then I need ye two to hold it on your own. Cam, how are ye doing?”

“Fine,” our cousin panted. “Let’s get the heavy fucker up.”

Max gave a laugh that was mostly pain and gave the instruction to pull. Then he carefully released his hold on the rope.

Cameron and I braced as well as we could. But blood welled on my hands, and my grip turned slippery. Likewise, Cameron was losing power, his bleeding shoulder worsening by the second.

Yet Lochie was so close. We couldn’t fail him now.

Max said something low to the man on the cliff. Whatever answer came drove greater worry through my brother. He pressed his lips together and then, with a quick glance our way, lowered himself over the cliff edge.

“What the fuck is he doing?” Cameron gasped.

“No clue.”

Max’s upper body remained in sight, his arms gripping a rock, and his cast an encumbrance and in the way. I imagined he was somehow giving Lochie a boost, or his body to grip onto. I had no idea.

A helicopter chopped the air. Shouts came from down the slopes. The whole confrontation had taken place in minutes and turned deadly in seconds.

Hurry, I willed the others coming to help us.

“Climb over me,” Max growled. “Use me to get over the lip. Swing yourself around so ye dinna drag your chest. Aye, like that.”

His chest. Where Jude had stabbed him? God, it must be bad.

The granite under Max’s arms cracked. More rocks tumbled. My brother yelled, his hold failing.

“Pull now,” he shouted in utter desperation. “The ledge is about to go. Pull!”

I gave a howl of despair and heaved, putting every last drop of myself into it. Cameron gave up an agonised yelp of pain but backed me, still stronger than I was despite his crippling injury.

Lochie struggled to the edge, his bloodied face in sight.

Disaster struck.

Max’s stronghold failed. The rocky shelf broke into pieces, falling to its peril below. Max grabbed the rope, his weight far too much for Cameron and me. We were about to lose them both to the fall.

But hands landed besides ours.

Fresh strength joined where ours failed.

Voices of the rescue team filled the air.

In a kind of dream sequence, I watched on as Maddock and Wasp hauled Max back to safety, leaving him gasping something from the ground. Then they grasped Lochie, only half in his harness, and brought him up, communicating with careful orders and stark worry etched into their features.

Behind, the helicopter landed, more shouts and voices battling for dominance.

Cameron and I collapsed, then his da joined us and took over caring for his son.

I could only stare at Lochie.

At the man I’d loved and almost lost, and still might.

Jude’s knife stuck out of his chest, embedded through his jumpsuit, the red of his blood dark and insidious.

He’d stabbed him directly in the heart.

Atoo-fast beat marked the next several hours.

Thud, thud, thud.

The rescue team worked on Lochie, getting him into the helicopter, me, Cameron, and Max alongside him. They extracted us to a city hospital, which, I wasn’t sure.

Thud, thud.

Surgeons worked on Lochie, removing the evil Jude had instilled in his heart. Keep beating, keep beating for me, I willed.

A nurse patched up my hands. Max received treatment for minor injuries and to reset his arm, broken once more from trying to hold Lochie’s weight.

Cameron went under the knife to remove the shotgun pellets and close his wounds.

I needed them all to be safe and well, but I couldn’t pull myself away from the waiting room, from where the doctor would replace me and tell me Lochie was okay.

Nothing else mattered.

My parents called, Isla under their care. They’d told her Lochie had been hurt but that the doctors were fixing him. I spoke to her and repeated the words, telling her we’d both be home soon.

Oh God, please be true.

After hours had passed, still I’d heard nothing. Someone pressed a cup of coffee into my bandaged hands. Food was offered, but I couldn’t eat. Then Ma arrived, and I burst into tears in her arms.

Thud.

“Is the family of Bram MacNeill here?” a voice called.

I jerked up from the plastic seats. “That’s me.”

The doctor arrived in front of me. “Mrs MacNeill? I’m Claire White, Bram’s surgeon. Your husband has had quite the ordeal.”

I couldn’t bring myself to correct her or to fill in Ma on the name change underway.

“Is he okay?” I asked with a wavering voice.

“The injury left a bleeding wound in the right ventricle anteriorly. It was a tricky surgery.”

“His…” I had no clue what any of that meant. “Is he still alive?”

The doctor smiled. “Indeed. We were fortunate that the knife didn’t do more damage. The operation was a success. He should be awake and able to see you soon.”

My fear crested, and I took a heaving sobbing breath, then collapsed onto my mother. She held me tight and stroked my hair while I cried. Dimly, I was aware of her asking questions of the doctor and politely bidding her farewell. Then she led me to my chair and sat me down.

On her heels in front of me, Ma raised my soaked face to hers. “He was injured but has been fixed. Broken ribs from the fall, cuts and bruises and bumps—they’ll all heal. And his heart is working just fine.”

“I couldn’t bear it,” I quavered. “If he hadn’t made it…”

“I know, sweetheart. I know.”

Ma held me until the police found us to take my statement. They made reference to recovering Jude’s body, but I didn’t want to know.

Months ago, I’d told Lochie how dangerous obsession could be. But I’d only had half the facts. The danger lay in the holder of the emotion, not in the feeling itself. I loved Lochie with every ounce of my being, was obsessed with him to the point of no return. But he was with me, too.

From now on, not a day would go by where I didn’t let him know the facts of our love.

In the battle for Lochie’s heart, only I could win.