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Chris pounded on the window again. “Becca! Open the door!” Wind sent the rain sheeting sideways, stinging his cheeks and promising revenge if he’d just respond.
The water fed his strength without his even asking. Chris slammed the side of his fist into the window. A crack formed. Nick slammed a fist right beside his. The crack widened.
Sirens sang somewhere in the distance.
Water rushed over his feet. He punched her window again. Another crack. Damned safety glass.
More fire shot from around her hood, but Chris didn’t spare a thought for whether Gabriel could control it all. People were starting to get out of their cars, jackets hunched over their heads.
“You kids get away!” some lady shouted from far back. “That car’s on fire!”
Fist. Glass. Crack.
“Becca!” Jesus Christ, why wouldn’t she open the door?
The ground shook. Hard. Chris caught at the side mirror to keep his footing.
Nick caught his arm to keep from falling. “He’s flooding the bridge.”
“No,” Gabriel yelled. “He’s taking out the bridge.”
The ground shook again. Cars were sliding, shifting along the concrete surface. The water was halfway up Chris’s calves now. People were screaming, running for solid ground.
If the bridge collapsed, they’d go down with at least six cars.
For the first time in a long while, Chris wished Michael was with them.
He punched the window again. His knuckles split and left a wash of blood across the glass, gone in an instant from the downpour.
But the instant the water got inside his skin, Chris couldn’t refuse the element. This time his fist went right through the glass.
Smoke poured through the hole, blasting around his arm and almost forcing him out. He felt the wind whip around him. Nick was forcing clean air into the car.
“Chris,” said Nick, his voice low, yet carrying over the storm. “She’s not breathing.”
Chris ignored him and fumbled to find the door lock. Blood streaked down his arm, but he didn’t care.
The bridge dropped a few inches. Nick grabbed his arm and kept Chris on his feet. Becca’s car started to slide. They were going into the water in a second.
Gabriel jumped on the hood. “Chris, get her out!”
Glass ground into Chris’s skin, feeling like it might take his arm off.
There. He found the latch and jerked. The door gave.
Her body weighed nothing. Chris dragged her out of the car and into his arms. Blood was everywhere, in her hair, on her clothes, down the side of her face. His own joined it, soaking into her sweater.
Rain poured down her cheeks, taking the blood with it.
“Breathe,” he whispered.
She didn’t.
“Nick!” Was his voice shaking? “Nick! Make her breathe. Please—”
“I can’t.” Nick pressed a hand to her cheek. “Chris, I can’t.”
“Chris!” Gabriel was still on the hood of her car. The flames were huge, lighting his eyes. “We have to get off the bridge!”
