Page 182 of Revere: A Legacy Novel

Then another.

Cross wasn’t entirely sure what was happening, as his eyes wouldn’t cooperate and open, and the rest of his body seemed to be useless. He still couldn’t get in a breath, and when air was pushed into his mouth, it met the same, blocked fate.

“His pulse is damn weak,” another man said. “You might damage his heart with CPR while there’s a pulse.”

“Not at this point,” Dante replied. “He’s blue around his mouth, not breathing, and his heart will stop altogether soon. It’s worth the risk right now. I do not want to explain to his father and to Catherine that at best, I did not try, or at worst, I chose to wait until he was altogether dead before doing anything at all.”

Those compressions against his chest came harder still, and Cross was sure one of his ribs cracked. He didn’t mind because shit, that blockage in his throat and lungs came rushing out.

It wasn’t a blockage at all.

It was water.

His lungs had been full of water.

Cross felt himself be shoved onto his side as he choked and vomited way too much salt water. Hands smacked his back, and voices rushed louder in his ears as one drained of water. Every inch of him hurt. His throat felt like someone had dumped fire down it. Each breath he sucked in ached like nothing else, but shit, he kept sucking air back like it was the best goddamn thing he had ever had in his life.

Next to Catherine, it was.

“Well done, Dante.”

“Just let her know he’s good, Lucian.”

Cross fell to his back, and his gaze opened wide. It took him far too long to realize he was focusing in on a dark sky, and then Dante clouded his vision.

“You’re all right,” Dante murmured.

Cross coughed out more water.

Dante smirked. “And you’re welcome.”

Yeah, shit.

“I think I’m dead,” Cross croaked out.

Exhausted, dry laughter filled the space. From more than just Dante.

“You’re too fucking stubborn to die,” Dante said.

Maybe.

“Catherine.”

Dante moved to the side as the floor rocked underneath him—a boat, Cross thought. He grabbed Cross’s wrist, put a hand to his back, and forced him into a sitting position.

“Settle in where you’re settling in,” an unknown man barked. “We’re running low on gas and need to get back. It’s a long ride.”

Cross wasn’t listening.

Something better was there.

Catherine.

She fell to her knees in front of him, all crying green eyes and looking like a drowned rat. Probably just like he fucking looked, too.

Cross didn’t even care.

He reached for her, pulled her in, and barely felt the heavy blankets that had been tossed over their shoulders.