Water wings.
The other is pinned by the bolt staked through its front, blood spilling from the frayed wound.
My stomach tips.
Its maw cranks wide, and I take in the fatal set of canines that could crunch through this ship in a single bite, its cavernous throat reeking of dead fish and embers. It spews a violent roar that rattles my bones, its clamor beating against my skin, followed by a chilling squeal that rips a sob from my throat.
With another curdled wail, the creature lashes against the ocean, tossing the ship with such violent force my feet whip out from under me.
I slam against the deck.
Wood groans, and the ship begins to roll to a symphony of screams.
Anything not bolted down becomes a deadly missile, and we plane sideways, lashing against the spindles in a groaning tangle of limbs. I scramble to grip hold of the wooden rails only seconds before we slam into the ocean’s livid face.
Water hammers me—a crushing attack that rips my fingers from the rail. I flit with the heavy current for a few harrowing seconds, then collide with one of the masts, the breath punched from my lungs from the violent assault.
I hold tight, a rinse of bubbles exploding against my face.
The mast vibrates when a stridentcrackratchets through the water, like a tree splitting.Snapping.
This is how I’m going to die.
I lose track of which way is up, which way is down, the ship lurching side to side like a wild, bucking beast, scrambling my organs and making my head spin.
My hold begins to slip, gravity pulling me down.
Water drains with the easing motion, and I land in a lump, gasping a treasured breath. It hacks out of me in retching increments that almost split my chest.
I roll onto my back. Open my eyes.
Silence.
Blurry clouds swing side to side—something that strikes me as odd until I realize the boat is swaying.
The silence morphs into a blare of blood-curdling screams; the sort of loud that makes me want to squeeze my eyes shut and clap my hands over my ears.
But I’ve done that all my life. Blocked out the noise.
Enough.
I battle into a sitting position and survey my surroundings.
My blood chills.
The floorboards are laden with puddles, some red and syrupy. People’s clothes are slicked to their skin, torn in places, revealing fleshy wounds with shards of bone poking through. Some are groaning through twisted expressions, cradling limbs hanging at odd angles.
Some are deadly silent.
The few men who survived the roll unscathed cling to the splintered balustrades, searching the surface for any signs the wounded beast will return to serve more bloody vengeance.
“That stupid bitch …”
The strangled condemnation comes from behind, and I peer back to see Vanth pushing to his feet, a deep slash in his forehead spitting a bloody ribbon down his face.
Caught in a daze, I watch it drip while he scans the commotion with keen, desperate eyes, before I shore up the energy to crawl toward the Captain who’s motionless—wrapped around the base of the harpoon. Rolling him onto his back, I inspect the grisly gash on his head, then set my ear against his chest.
A choked sound erupts from Vanth, and I see him folded against the handrail, gaze pierced across the ocean. “No ...”
