“Willow,” Christian begged, his heart aching. He wanted to keep her safe, but he had to use both hands to lift the girl from the water.
“The girl,” she choked out. “Take the girl.”
He frantically searched the rock face for something Willow could hold onto, but it was too smooth. There was nothing she could use.
“Christian,” she pleaded.
She bobbed up and down in the water, and Christian could tell she was kicking to keep herself up.
If he did this quickly, she would be well. Hating himself for doing it, Christian released her hand.
Willow began to slide under the water but surged back up as she moved her feet and stretched toward the rock.
Marcus and Sage rushed up behind him as he hauled the child from the water. Her limbs were limp, and an eerie stillness filled the air as he handed her to Marcus and then spun to Willow. Her fingers slid down the slippery rock as she frantically sought a grip.
Christian seized her wrists, hauling her up with such force that he toppled over, and she landed on top of him. His breath came in ragged gasps, and his hands tightened around her. Anguish filled him at what could have happened, what he could have lost. “Are you well?”
Willow spun to the girl. The child was lying motionless on the rock, and Sage and Marcus were frozen in shock. “Help her.” Willow’s voice trembled as she pleaded, “Do something.”
Marcus sat the girl up. Gripping her tiny shoulders, he delivered five hard strikes to her back. But there was no change—no sound, no motion. Her head hung forward lifelessly, strands of wet blonde hair dangling in front of her face.
Willow let out a small whimper.
Christian crawled to her side. He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.
“What happened?” Raven asked, walking up behind the rock. “I heard Willow’s cry.”
Sage took the child from Marcus and laid the girl on her stomach to push against her back.
Willow leaned forward anxiously, worried. Christian watched Sage as concern flooded his mind. Time seemed to stand still as the child remained motionless. He shifted his gaze to Willow; locks of wet golden hair fell over her cheeks, and her soaking braid hung to the rock. Her fingers were white, clenched into tense balls against the cold stone beneath her. But it was her eyes—haunted, troubled—that made his chest tighten.
Sage sat back.
“Keep trying,” Willow pleaded.
Sage shook her head. “Will…”
“Please,” Willow choked.
Sage sighed heavily and hit the child’s back again with less conviction. And again. This time her attempts were filled with resignation as if she were simply going through the movements. There was no hope in her attempts.
Willow’s lower lip quivered.
The girl hadn’t made it.
“She’s been under the water too long,” Marcus said gently.
“It wasn’t long,” Willow insisted, and her eyes brimmed with tears. “I went in as soon as I got here. I…” Her voice trailed off in a hitch.
“We can’t save everyone.” Raven’s voice was a gentle whisper as she spoke, but the words landed on them like blows.
It was what their father used to say, Christian knew as he watched Willow closely. Her shoulders tensed, and a tiny muscle flickered in her jaw as she clenched her teeth to contain her anguish. Willow swallowed hard and nodded, her throat working convulsively. His heart ached for how she had been taught to suppress her feelings and put on a brave face amid tragedy.
“You did well,” Marcus commented.
Sage sat back again, her eyes locked on Willow. “You did everything you could.”
Willow shook her head, tears pooling in her eyes.
