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I look down.
Kai is directly below me.
Arms raised.
Waiting.
"Nine."
My wrists strain against whatever's holding them.
They're going to release too.
When the vest goes, I go.
"Eight."
One-two-three-four.
"Seven."
One-two-three-four.
"Six."
Trust him.
"Five."
Trust the man who drugged you.
"Four."
Trust the pack that came back.
"Three."
Trust yourself to survive.
"Two."
Like you always have.
"One."
The vest releases.
My restraints release.
And I'mfalling.
Thirty feet of empty air rushing past me, the ground approaching fast, my body twisting automatically—dancer's instinct, survival instinct, the knowledge that how you land determines whether you break.
Arms catch me.
Strong.
Secure.
