Chapter 287
Across the river in Brooklyn, “The Crag” was a massive indoor rock climbing gym. The air smelled of chalk dust and sweat. Hip-hop music pumped through the speakers, mixing with the shouts of climbers and the clinking of carabiners.
Grayson stood in the crowded lobby with a finger pressed to his ear, stuck on a conference call with the board of directors about the Vanguard contract rumors. He looked stressed, eyes fixed on the floor as he paced.
Belle stood a few feet away, holding Effie’s hand.
Effie wore a small pink t-shirt and leggings. She looked tiny in the cavernous gym, and she kept glancing back at Grayson, who wasn’t looking at her.
“Come on, Effie,” Belle said brightly, tugging the little girl’s arm. “Let’s go to the climbing zone. We need to get a cool photo for Daddy to post.”
Effie dug her sneakers into the rubber mat. “I don’t want to. It’s loud.”
𝖡𝗲 𝘵𝗵𝘦 fir𝗌𝗍 t𝗈 rеad оn g𝘢𝘭ո𝗼𝘷𝖾𝘭s.𝗰𝗼𝘮
“Don’t be a baby,” Belle sighed, rolling her eyes. “Kaiden climbed the big wall last week. You don’t want Kaiden to be braver than you, do you?”
Effie’s jaw tightened. She hated when Belle compared her to Kaiden.
Belle dragged her into the beginner’s auto-belay area. The wall was thirty feet high, covered in brightly colored plastic holds. Belle grabbed a small harness from the rack, crouched down, and hastily strapped it around Effie’s waist and legs. She didn’t check the buckles. She didn’t pull the straps tight.
She grabbed the heavy metal carabiner attached to the auto-belay rope hanging from the ceiling and clipped it onto the front loop of Effie’s harness. But Belle was already looking at her phone, checking her makeup in the reflection. She didn’t twist the locking mechanism. She just let it snap shut.
“Okay, go up,” Belle said, giving Effie a push toward the wall. “Smile for the camera!”
Effie looked up at the towering wall. Her heart hammered against her ribs. She reached out with her small, chalk-free hands and grabbed a yellow hold.
She started to climb. Slowly. Trembling.
Five feet. Then eight. Then ten.
“Higher, Effie!” Belle yelled from below. She took several steps backward, holding her phone up high, trying to find the perfect angle — herself in the foreground looking supportive, the child climbing in the background. She tapped the screen, adjusting the filter. “I can’t see your face, Effie! Look down and smile!”
Effie was twelve feet off the ground. Her palms were sweating. The plastic holds felt slippery.
She reached up with her right hand — the wrist fractured weeks ago, still weak — to grab a blue jug hold.
Her fingers slipped.
A small gasp escaped her lips. Her feet lost their grip on the wall.
She fell.
The auto-belay rope went taut instantly, designed to catch her and lower her slowly. But the carabiner wasn’t locked. When the sudden weight hit the rope, the loose clip twisted violently against the harness loop, the metal gate pressing hard against the thick nylon webbing. The clip didn’t fail completely, but it slipped sideways, extending the slack by a crucial two feet.
Effie swung violently outward like a pendulum, then slammed face-first back into the fiberglass wall.
.