Ethan didn’t dwell on how it had been built. His attention stayed on the wall, on his hands, on the faint slickness spreading where the liquid ran. “Careful,” Nora said. “That stuff’s everywhere.” He shifted his grip to avoid it—and his foot slid. Just a fraction. Enough. His stomach dropped as the sole of his shoe lost traction.
Instinct kicked in before thought. He slammed his palm into a dry hold, fingers screaming as they caught. His other foot scraped desperately until it found purchase. For a heartbeat, the cliff felt weightless beneath him. Then it held. Ethan pressed his forehead to the stone, breathing hard. Adrenaline roared through his chest, sharp and electric. “Okay,” he muttered.