“No chance,” Gypsy snaps, folding her arms, her mouth set in that stubborn line. “Not after the last dive. You’re not doing this.”
I blink, caught off guard, just for a heartbeat. The water’s already licking at our knees—we don’t have time for an argument, but damn it, if anyone’s diving into that cage, it’s going to be me.
“Think it through, love,” I growl, stepping closer. My heart’s pounding, and if that little flicker in her eyes is anything to go by, hers is too. “Who else can do this better than me?”
She doesn’t answer. Just stares, her nostrils flaring, eyes glistening with something too raw to hide. Is she… about to cry?
Damn it all. My chest tightens, the grip of it fierce and unwelcome. Without thinking, I pull her close, my arms locking around her cold frame, and for a moment, she’s melting into me, her face pressed against my neck. She breathes deep, holding on, like she’s stealing something—maybe the scent of me, or maybe just the courage to keep steady. Either way, I’m not letting go.I’d rather dive into hell than lose her. And that’s why it’s got to be me in that pool, not her. Because I’d split my own veins open before I fail.
“I won’t fail this,” I murmur, low against her curls. “Believe in me.”
She mutters, “It’s not that I don’t believe in you,” voice so soft I almost miss it. “And you damn well know it.”
Aye. I do know it. She’s worried about me—about me, of all people. It’s a wild notion, something out of a dream, but I’m not fool enough to doubt it. Not anymore.
“It’s gonna be fine,” I say, pressing a final kiss to her head. The water’s up to our knees already; there’s no room for hesitation now.
She steps back, her gaze holding mine for one last second, and then she’s all business, Captain Flint again, like she doesn’t have a shred of doubt. She turns to Vinicola and Fabien, who are busy poking at the cage mechanism, their faces a mix of focus and dread.
“Alright,” she calls. “Let’s figure out who’s taking which cage.” She glances at me, a hint of something unreadable in her eyes. “Zayan, you’ll go under again—you’re fast, you’re accurate. We need that down there.”
Vinicola opens his mouth like he’s about to argue, then lets out a shaky sigh. “Alright,” he mutters, clearly out of his depth. “Godspeed, Mr. Zayan. And… the rest of us?”
Gypsy strides over to the pillars, and her expression hardens. “I’ll be in the lowest cage,” she says. Just like that. Like it’s the simplest choice in the world. “I’m the captain. That’s where I belong.” She looks to Fabien. “You’ll be in the middle. Vinicola—since you can barely swim and can’t hold your breath worth a damn—you’ll be highest.”
She’s put herself in the most dangerous position, taken the biggest risk without a second thought. I feel the urge to protest rising, but one look from her shuts me down.
She’s made her choice, and it’s final.
Vinicola stands there like he’s fighting back every instinct to bolt. But then his jaw tightens, and damn if he doesn’t actually step toward the highest pillar, hands clamping around it like he’s making peace with his own doom. Fabien’s right behind him, already resting a hand on the middle post, dead calm as water laps at his legs.
“Then tie us to these fuckers, Cagney,” he growls. The water’s up to his thighs, but he doesn’t so much as twitch.
Gritting my teeth, I wade over, grabbing the chains.
I secure Gypsy first. Her hands are steady, but I catch the slight tremor when she wraps her fingers around the pillar, locking her gaze somewhere far away. I wind the chain and cannonball around her ankles, anchoring her in place. The water will claw at her, pull her up, but the iron will keep her right where she is.
Locked. Held under. Waiting for the water to rise.
Next, I tie up Fabien and Vinicola. Just as I loop the last link, there’s a click, and the cages above slam down around them, sealing the three of them in.
A low hum vibrates through the air—my signal. This is it.
I barely throw a glance over my shoulder before plunging into a dive. The current yanks at me, claws down my chest as if it’s trying to drag me into the dark for good. But that’s not happening. I use my muscles to resist it, to keep steady.
The light vanishes fast, swallowed up in this dark-blue depth, all silence and shadows. My fingers scrape along rough rock as I go, searching, feeling for anything that could fit the sockets up top. It’s all cold, unyielding stone at first. Another dark stretch, no end in sight.
I press deeper, lungs starting to burn, until I catch a faint shift to my left—a narrow fissure, barely visible. My fingers reach inside, and there it is. Cool, smooth, unmistakable: a small, round object. It looks like… like a sea turtle carved into this black, shiny stone.
It must be one of the pieces.
My chest screaming for air, I kick upward, the water gripping me like lead, dragging at my legs. Hell itself couldn’t have made a harder task. Feels like I’m not moving at all, like I’m just treading in place. A trick, a lie, made to shatter my resolve. But I keep going.
Finally, I break the surface, gasping, feeling the weight fall from me as I suck in air.
Gypsy, Rancour, and Vinicola are all submerged by now. The water’s risen fast, flooding up past the cages, nearly to the top.
I swim straight for Vini, diving just enough to reach the hollow of his pillar. Hands shaking, I place the turtle stone into the slot. It clicks into place with a smooth snap, and a soft blue light pulses, rippling up the pillar like a beacon.
