Page 74 of Trapped Truth

It takes a second for my vision to settle, blurred by adrenaline and pain. Across the pool, figures swarm, tossing bone-cracking punches left, right and centre. Hyland’s bulk is clear among them.

No gun. He’s not the shooter.

To my relief, Blaine has another assailant trapped in a headlock. The pair stand over Warner’s unconscious body, my black-eyed mobster not letting anyone get close. He seems to be guarding Warner with his life.

Also no gun.

Then who fired…

Internal confusion is swiftly cut by the blur of a new attack, incoming fast. The final remaining guard, holding our victim hostage, has abandoned his post to launch himself at me, leaving her curled up in a sobbing ball.

I’ve barely found my knees when he whips out a roundhouse kick. Ducking in time, I crawl over the tiled floor, bringing myself close to the pool’s edge. I’m going to toss this one in, headfirst.

When he widens his stance then launches in my direction, I let myself roll, headed straight for the water. We collide somewhere near the edge, but rather than letting my death spin be halted, I thrust both legs up high at the last moment.

My feet connect with the thug’s midsection, propelling him through the air before he can smack into me. He sails towards the pool. I’m about to tuck my knees when a hand snags my ankle.

“No!” I screech.

Velocity isn’t on my side. I’m dragged along like a dead fish. Much too quickly, icy daggers stab into my body, cold water quickly closing over my head. The anchor of his sinking body drags me in deep.

Chlorine sears my eyes. The water is murky, chemical-mired. Struggling limbs spasm in the confusion, and my own red hair floats around me. Still, the death grip on my ankle won’t relent.

Help me, I want to howl.

All I release are precious air bubbles.

Clamping my lips shut does little to alleviate the desire to scream. Already, my lungs are burning, over-exerted from the fight. There isn’t enough oxygen left to curb the instinct that could very well kill me now.

Through squinting eyes, there’s almost enough visibility to make out the man’s blueish face, inches from mine. We’re still caught in a tangle. I lash out underwater, aiming for his mouth.

When the left hook hits, it works perfectly. His mouth opens on instinct, and I watch him suck water in faster than a sink hole. The iron grip on my ankle slackens as he splutters and panics.

Kick, Ember. Move!

Suddenly, every body part weighs more than concrete. No matter how hard I convulse in the water, the distance to the surface only grows. Rippling and unattainable.

Jagged pain spikes across my temples. The slow burning in my lungs has spread into an out-of-control wildfire. My capillaries constrict, veins bulging, red blood cells screaming for sustenance…

A thunderclap.

Something enters the water.

Whirlpools form around the object that pierces the surface. Broad, powerful strokes carry it towards me. As I sink deeper, two strong paws form handcuffs around my wrists.

Oxygen deprivation must have set in. Axel can’t be here. Someone else is cutting water like air to propel us both upward. When my head breaks the surface, I cough and splutter, battling to clear my lungs.

“Breathe, come on.”

Faintly, I’m aware of being wrenched from the water, cool air scalding my skin as a hard surface slams into my spine.

“A-Ax…? What the…?”

“Not quite, but you’re welcome.”

The sounds of fighting have ceased all around. I think I hear Hyland’s deep boom, but it’s obscured by my heaving. A harsh touch turns me over, then water shoots from my nostrils.

The cough that tears out of me scrapes my oesophagus with a knife’s edge. Through streaming eyes, I peer up at the soaked figure at my side.