Looking back ten minutes ago, I probably should have thought through what might happen if we jumped out of the air plane. Now Dean and I are 900 feet above ground, hurling to our deaths.

The wind roared in my ears, a deafening howl that drowned out every rational thought. My stomach lurched as I plummeted, limbs flailing, weightless and completely at gravity’s mercy. I barely caught a glimpse of Dean beside me, his dark hair whipping around his face, his expression a mix of determination and panic.

“Miriana! Pull the chute!” His voice was barely audible over the rushing air.

I reached instinctively for the ripcord on the parachute strapped to my back—except my fingers grasped nothing but air. Panic slammed into me like a freight train.

“Dean, I don’t have my chute!” I screamed.

His eyes went wide as the reality of my words sank in. Without hesitation, he twisted midair and reached for me. But we were falling too fast. Every movement sent me spinning, my vision a blur of blue sky and rapidly approaching earth.

I couldn’t die, not like this. Not after everything we’d just gone through.

Dean fought the air resistance, forcing his body toward mine and I saw the moment he made his decision, which was reckless, impulsive, and the frankly the only chance we had.

“Hold on!” he shouted, then yanked his own ripcord.

The parachute bursts open above him, jerking his body upward with a violent snap. For a split second, I thought I had lost him. Then suddenly a hard forces rips me upwards as his arms catch me, wrapping around my waist as if his life depended on it.

Correction—our lives.

The force nearly tore me from his grasp, but fight or flight kicked in, and I clung to him with everything I had. The chute slowed our descent, but not enough. We were still dropping too fast as the ground quickly rushed to us in a blur of green and brown.

“Brace for impact!” Dean shouted.

I didn’t even have time to think as the tall, thick, and far too solid-looking trees rose to meet us. We hit the canopy hard as banches snapped, leaves exploded in every direction, and my vision spun as we tumbled through the foliage. My shoulder slammed into something rough, pain instantly shooting down my arm. Dean’s grip on me loosened, and for a terrifying second, I thought I’d lost him.

Then a loud thud sounded as we crashed through the last set of branches, breaking free of the canopy, and hitting the ground in a tangled heap. The impact knocked the breath from my lungs as pain radiated from every inch of my body.

For a long moment, I lay there, staring up at the broken branches swaying overhead, struggling to remember how to breathe when a groan beside me brings me back to reality.

Dean.

I turned my head just as he rolled onto his back, eyes squeezed shut in pain. Then, to my absolute disbelief, he let out a breathless, disbelieving laugh.

“We’re alive,” he said opening his eyes meeting my gaze, “we shouldn’t be with that stunt you decided to throw, but here we are,”

I swallowed, my pulse still hammering. “Barely.” I sat up slowly, wincing. Everything hurt, but nothing felt broken. A small miracle from everything else that has happened today.

Dean turned his head toward me, his grin lopsided despite the bruise already forming on his cheek. “Next time, I vote, let’s take the stairs.”

I let out a shaky laugh, then nudged his arm. “Next time, let’s just check if I have a parachute.”

He groaned dramatically but pushed himself up, brushing leaves from his jacket. “Deal, though for our sake, let’s pray there isn’t a next time,”

We weren’t out of danger yet. But for now, we had survived. And somehow, I had a feeling this was just the beginning.