“I’ve got you,” I splutter, painfully aware of his motionless chest, of the endless ocean beneath us. “I’m so sorry.” Choking back a sob, I unhook his cloak and free him from the anchor of his much-loved loot.
I drag him to the edge of the sail, tip onto my back, and rest him against my chest so his head stays above the water while I propel toward the ship—feet churning with the rush of my labored breaths.
Little waves fold over us, stinging my eyes and blurring my vision.
Every second that drips by is another breath lost. Every volley of water that batters his face is another dose of death up his nose. Down his throat.
Not fast enough.
My head bumps against something hard, and I jolt to a stop, feet sinking. I look up the steep edge of the ship to a handrail lined with bloody, frantic sailors. To the rope ladder hanging down the side.
“Grab hold!”
Our bobbing vulnerability makes my stomach turn.
I can feel the sharks lurking—watching. Any moment, one could hit,snatch us under, tear and thrash andchew.Or perhaps the sea serpent will charge from the depths again and swallow us in a vengeful gulp.
My grip on Zane tightens as I flounder for the rope. Putting his limp body between myself and the ladder, I try to haul him free from the skulking threats.
“I can’t pull him out on my own!”
My voice is foreign—sharp and desperate.
I shove hair off my face to see Cap scaling the ladder, blood dribbling from his chin.
“Can you climb?”
With my nod, he grips Zane by the back of his shirt and hauls him from my clutch, lumping him over his shoulder. A surge of relief shoots through me.
He’s safe.
I follow them up the ladder, my hair a sodden anchor down my back. The flimsy rope blisters my fingers with every pull farther from the mauling threat below, and I tingle from the base of my spine to the soles of my feet.
Certain I’d see my own death rushing toward me with a wide-open jaw, I don’t look down—not evenwhen I realize we are well and truly in the clear.
Zane and the Captain disappear from sight, and I’m gripped on the back of my shirt like a kitten, then lumped upon the deck.
I watch in muted horror as Captain pinches Zane’s nose and breathes big bouts of air into his lungs, inflating his chest.
Breathe ...
Breathe, dammit!
He paws at Zane’s face with calloused hands. “Wake up, my boy. Come on. Open your eyes and look at me.” A harsh, desperate sound escapes him as he rolls Zane onto his side and batters his back. “Wake up!”
The seconds drip by like oil in water, refusing to blend, coasting across the surface of my soul. I feel like I’m falling through a hole in the ground with no air in my chest to scream.
Perhaps they’re not seconds at all, but minutes, hours,days.
Perhaps this limbo lasts forever.
There’s a hacking sound, a splutter and a spill that makes my heart and stomach lurch in tandem.
Zane’s eyes blink open—so shot they’re more red than white. They swivel, latching onto his uncle with a faraway stare, like he’s trying to reconstruct some sort of puzzle.
Cap’s face crumbles, a curdled sound rupturing from his lips …
I fold forward and vomit across the floorboards.
