Found
He didn't know what made him stumble down to the beach on seeing the broken slats of the burial mound, something instinctive in him calling out, tugging him down the slope to the beach with hurried steps, the wind whipping round him as he stared hopelessly round. She'd saved herself, but she was still nowhere in sight. Had she saved herself? Or had someone else taken her from where Eva had buried her?
"Nikki!" He all but screamed, his voice hoarse from calling out her name far too many times in the last fifteen hours or so. He didn't care. He would yell her name until he had no voice left and then some, if it got her back. Whatever it took to get her back, he'd do. Hadn't he proven that with El Buitre? With his willingness to follow Eva's orders blindly? "Nikki!"
He squinted against the harsh sun rays as movement caught his eye. His heart threatened to beat out of his chest as his pulse raced, running along the sand before his brain had even caught up to his movements. He recognised that top, those jeans, that blonde hair. Of course, he wasn't expecting the clothes to be completely soaked through, or the hair matted and dripping wet, a layer of dirt covering almost every inch, but it was her. Nikki. Alive and stumbling down the beach. She was there.
"Nikki." He reached her just as her eyes darted up to meet his, wide and shocked. He barely heard her whisper his name like an answered prayer before he'd engulfed her in his arms, lifting her off the ground to hold her tightly against his chest, supporting the entirety of her weight. He thought he felt her tears seep into his neck, but his own were freely falling into her hair so he couldn't be sure. It didn't matter though. He'd found her. She was alive. They'd made it. He was never letting her go again. "Let's go home, Nikki."