She's right. Water's pouring through the broken windshield, filling the interior with terrifying speed. The SUV lists further nose-down, settling into softer sediment. If we wait much longer, we'll be sucked down with it.
I fire twice at Rexford's position, buying us seconds. "Into the water. Deep as you can get, swim parallel to shore until we're past his sight line."
"What about you?"
"I'll be right behind you." I fire again, keeping Rexford's head down. "Go, Fallon. Now."
She goes, diving into deeper water with the kind of confidence that comes from years spent in the ocean. Marine biologist, comfortable underwater in ways most people neverachieve. I provide covering fire until my magazine runs dry, then drop the empty and follow her into the water.
Cold hits like a fist, stealing breath despite my conditioning. Underwater visibility is zero, everything silted and dark, but I can feel currents pulling me toward deeper channels. I surface once for air, orienting on where Fallon went, and see Rexford maybe twenty yards back, rifle tracking.
Muzzle flash. Water erupts near my head. I dive again, swimming hard, lungs already burning.
The SUV's fully submerged now, settling onto the marsh bottom with ponderous inevitability. I surface near it, using the bulk for cover, and catch sight of Fallon doing the same on the far side. Her face is pale but calm, green eyes meeting mine with understanding.
Rexford's wading closer, rifle sweeping, hunting for clear shots. My backup piece is in the gear we stowed when we left the safe house. I have my knife strapped to my ankle but I’ll need to be closer than I am t use it. Options narrowing with every second.
Then Fallon does something I don't expect. She dives, disappearing beneath the murky surface, and I realize what she's doing a heartbeat before she does it. The SUV's rear door, still accessible if you know how to navigate underwater in zero visibility, leads to the gear we stowed before leaving the safe house. Including the waterproof emergency kit with flares, first aid, and the backup weapon I secured in case of exactly this scenario.
Rexford sees her dive and shifts aim, tracking bubbles. I don't think. I move, launching myself at him through chest-deep water with all the force I can generate. We collide hard, his rifle discharging skyward as my shoulder drives into his midsection. We go down together, grappling in the shallows, and my training gives me every advantage.
He fights back, frantic and wild, but lacks the skill to counter my holds. I get an arm around his throat, locking in the choke, applying pressure to the carotid. He bucks and claws, trying to break free, but I hold on with practiced efficiency.
His struggles weaken. Consciousness fades. I feel the moment he goes limp and release immediately, shoving him face-up in the water so he doesn't drown. Enemy or not, killer or not, I'm not an executioner.
"Holden!"
Fallon's voice snaps my attention to the SUV. She's surfaced beside it, emergency kit in hand, but something's wrong. Water's pulling her toward the vehicle, current created by the sinking weight, and she's fighting to stay clear of the suction.
I'm moving before conscious thought forms. Wade's death flashes through my mind, sharp and fast and painful. Underwater. Equipment failure. Panic that killed faster than drowning. But this isn't Wade. This is Fallon, and she's calm despite the danger, working the problem like the scientist she is.
I reach her as she's kicking free of the current's pull, and together we swim clear of the SUV's final descent. The vehicle disappears into deeper water with a rush of bubbles and displaced sediment, leaving us in suddenly calm shallows.
We surface together, gasping, and I haul her against me with relief so intense it makes my hands shake. "You okay? Did he hit you?"
"I'm fine." Her arms wrap around my neck, holding tight. "Are you?"
"Yeah." I look back at Rexford, still unconscious but breathing in the shallows where I left him. "He's down. Coast Guard will pick him up."
Fallon follows my gaze, then looks at me with something like wonder. "You could have killed him."
"Not who I am." I stroke wet hair back from her face, needing to touch her, to confirm she's real and whole and safe. "Not who I want to be."
We wade toward shore together, exhaustion pulling at muscles worked too hard for too long. Rexford stirs weakly in the shallows, and I turn back, grab him by the shirt collar, and drag him onto solid ground. Fallon stays behind me, watching as I haul him up onto the marsh grass.
Rexford coughs, spitting water, and tries to sit up. His hand reaches toward something, maybe a weapon he dropped, maybe just an instinctive movement. I don't wait to find out. My fist connects with his jaw in a clean, decisive strike. His head snaps back and he goes limp, unconscious before he hits the ground.
Sirens wail in the distance, growing closer. Hartwell must have sent backup when we didn't check in.
On solid ground, Fallon and I collapse in marsh grass still flattened from storm surge. We're soaked, bleeding from minor cuts where glass caught skin, alive despite everything that tried to kill us. Adrenaline crashes into exhaustion, leaving me shaky and raw.
Fallon touches my face, fingers gentle against my jaw. "We're okay. You got us out."
"We got out," I correct, because it matters that she knows this. "You went into that vehicle for the weapon in the emergency kit. You stayed calm underwater when most people would panic. You saved me as much as I saved you."
She holds my gaze, understanding passing between us that needs no words. Partnership. Equals meeting each other exactly where they are.
"I love you," I say, raw and certain and completely unable to hold it back any longer. "I've been trying not to fall for you since the first time I saw you on that research boat, but I'm done fighting it. I love you, Fallon McKay."
