Page 92 of Then We Shatter

I lift my hand and point behind him. I don’t know if he understands the danger he’s in, or if he’s simply responding to my terror, but he acts fast and races to the side door of the wheelhouse.

It’s not fast enough.

Hell’s fire consumes us for all our sins, of which there are many.

Chapter 35

Rick

The force of the explosion shoots me off the boat and slams me into the ocean. It’s like landing on a sheet of glass, and the surface tension of the water only just breaks before I do. I’m plunged into the depths and immediately start fighting against the weight of the Pacific to get back to Katarina.

The orange glow of an inferno draws me back to the surface and my first gasp of singed air is hot enough to burn my throat. The taste of diesel coats my tongue, but I swim towards what’s left of Nico’s boat.

The bow and mid-section took the brunt of the blast, and the wheelhouse has been shredded. The aft is mostly intact but the winch and heavy machinery at that end is making the wreck list and the stern is pointing to the water.

Plumes of black smoke block my vision and sting my eyes as I scour the wreckage. I can’t see Katarina. She could be lying on the deck, or else she was flung into the water too. What if she’s face down, unconscious?

I spin around, scanning every piece of debris that floats into view. “Katarina!” I yell.

No answer.

Flaming timbers hiss as they fall into the ocean. The wreck’s falling apart fast and I redouble my efforts to get closer, pushing charred flotsam out of the way to reach the stern that’s touching the water now.

I can’t go through this again. I won’t. If this is it for us, I’m done.

“Katarina, tell me you’re OK!” I roar.

She doesn’t answer as I claw up the side of the boat, the heated wood singing old cuts. My already scorched skin burns, but the only thing I feel is cold dread.

The wreck’s listing at a forty-five-degree angle, and I heave myself up onto the narrow walkway at the side of the ruined wheelhouse. Its walls are non-existent and the window frames to the front are shattered and splintered.

It’s only as I circle the wreckage that I see Katarina’s crumpled body. She’s lying unconscious on her front, her Kevlar vest pushed up, raising her arms.

Her clothes are covered in soot, her arms and legs bloodied, but… Thank fuck! Her back lifts as she takes a breath. She’s alive.

“Kitty, it’s me. I’m here, lovely,” I say, scrambling over the deck to reach her. I kneel down and tug on her shoulder, turning her so I can scoop her into my arms. She murmurs as her head comes to rest on my shoulder. “We’re going to be OK. I just need you to…”

My words turn to ash on my tongue as I pull her onto my lap and her body stretches out before me. Beneath her vest, her khaki t-shirt has turned a dark purple and the fabric glistens with blood. Lots of blood.

With a shaking hand, I lift her t-shirt and gag at the sight of the wound in her stomach. A doctor might describe it as catastrophic, but I’d kill any bastard brave enough to tell me I’m going to lose her now.

I apply as much pressure to the wound as I dare, not knowing if the shrapnel is still embedded in her stomach or not. I take a steadying breath and voice the only prognosis I’m willing to accept. “You’re going to be fine. Help’s on the way.”

Katarina’s beautiful face is smeared with soot. That has to be why her complexion is so grey. I count her ragged breaths as my ears strain for the sound of the Griffin’s helicopter. They will get here in time.

“Stay with me, Kitty,” I plead as the sound of water lapping over the deck grows louder. “This is only the beginning for us.” I swallow hard. “It’s not the fucking end. I’ll have none of that.”

Katarina’s eyelids flutter as she rouses into consciousness. Her arms are splayed out at her sides and she’s too weak to move them, but her fingertips twitch. She’s lost almost all of her red fingernails, except her middle finger aptly enough. She can use that for a fuck you to death, or the devil, or whoever thinks they’re coming to take her from me.

“Hey, there,” I whisper, resting my back against the barely-there wall of the wheelhouse and bracing my feet against the winch so we don’t slip into the water. I force a smile as her glazed eyes open. “We did it, lovely. Your uncle’s dead and we get to do whatever the fuck we want now. If you want to go after Grigor, we can do that. And Eric too.”

“Not… just Eric,” she rasps.

“You’re right,” I agree eagerly. “There are more bastards like him out there. Sasha can help us identify them.” A vision of our future forms in my mind. It’s not a quiet retirement like the one Ash Griffin has opted for. It’s bloody and vicious, but it offers the kind of purpose I always felt was lacking in my life. “We’ll go after them all. We’ll make it our life’s work. Together.”

Katarina takes a shaky breath. She’s awake and fully aware in a way I wish she wasn’t. “Not together. You do it.”

I shake my head. “Not without you, Kitty. Not ever. I came here to save you and you’re not stealing that from me,” I insist, ignoring the tear trickling down the side of her face. “We do it together or not at all.”