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She would not accept this. Not for a moment.
Her lungs began burning, a growing tightness that she fought against as she bore Syrinx back toward the feeding platform, her lifeline out of the water, away from the nøkk. Her fingers latched into the chain links as the dock rose back toward the surface.
Lungs constricting, Bryce held Syrinx on the platform, letting it propel them up, up—
From the shadows of the rocks at the bottom, the nøkk burst forth. It was already smiling.
The nøkk knew she’d come for Syrinx. It had been watching her in the library for weeks now.
But the feeding platform broke the surface, Bryce with it, and she gasped down sweet, life-saving air as she heaved Syrinx over the edge and gasped to Lehabah, “Chest compressions—”
Clawed hands wrapped around her ankles, slicing her skin as they yanked her back. Her brow smashed into the metal rim of the platform before the cold water swallowed her once more.
Hunt couldn’t breathe as the nøkk slammed Bryce into the glass of the tank so hard it cracked.
The impact shook her from her stunned stupor, just as the nøkk snapped for her face.
She dodged left, but it still had its talons on her shoulders, cutting into her skin. She reached for the knife she’d tied to her thigh—
The nøkk grabbed the knife from her hands, tossing it into the watery gloom.
This was it. This was how she’d die. Not at Micah’s hand, not from the synth in her body, but by being ripped to shreds by the nøkk.
Hunt could do nothing, nothing, nothing as it again snapped for her face—
Bryce moved again. Lunging not for a hidden weapon, but another sort of attack.
She punched her right hand low into the nøkk’s abdomen—and dug inside the nearly invisible front fold. It happened so fast Hunt wasn’t sure what she’d done. Until she twisted her wrist, and the nøkk arched in pain.
Bubbles leaked from Bryce’s mouth as she wrenched its balls harder—
Every male in the pit flinched.
The nøkk let go, falling to the bottom. It was the opening Bryce needed. She drifted back against the cracked glass, braced her legs, and pushed.
It launched her into the open water. Blood from her head wound streamed in her wake, even as the synth healed the gash and prevented the blow from rendering her unconscious.
The platform dropped into the water again. Lehabah had sent it down. A final lifeline. Bryce dolphin-kicked for it, her arms pointed in front of her. Blood swirled with each undulating kick.
At the rocky bottom of the tank, the nøkk had recovered—and now bared its teeth up at the fleeing woman. Molten rage gleamed in its milky eyes.
“Swim, Bryce,” Tharion growled. “Don’t look back.”
The platform hit its lowest level. Bryce swam, her teeth gritted. The instinct to take a breath had to be horrendous.
Come on, Hunt prayed. Come on.
Bryce’s fingers wrapped around the bottom of the platform. Then the rim. The nøkk charged up from the depths, fury and death blazing in its monstrous face.
“Don’t stop, Bryce,” Fury Axtar warned the screen.
Bryce didn’t. Hand by hand by hand, she climbed the ascending chain, fighting for each foot gained toward the surface.
Ten feet from the top. The nøkk reached the platform base.
Five. The nøkk shot up the chain, closing in on her heels.
Bryce broke the surface with a sharp gasp, her arms grappling, hauling, hauling—
