Raine
The mother clung to her son, sobbing into his soaked hair, whispering prayers I couldn’t understand but felt in my bones. Relief flickered through me, but it didn’t ease the knot in my chest.
Because Boone wasn’t here.
“Stay with him,” I told her, voice rough. “Don’t move. No matter what.”
She nodded, tears streaming down her face, clutching the boy tighter.
I turned back toward the river, my pulse hammering in my ears. Darkness churned everywhere, water raging, carrying whole trees and broken pieces of houses downstream like toys. Boone was out there somewhere—had to be.
“Boone!” My voice shredded against the roar. “Answer me!”
Nothing.
The current pulled hard as I pushed off the branch again, diving into the cold fury. My arms burned, lungs ached, but I forced myself forward, searching every shadow, every swirl of debris.
A shape bobbed in the water.
My heart stopped—then surged. It was him.
“Boone!” I lunged, my fingers brushing his jacket. The current ripped us apart, spinning me sideways, smashing me against a floating log. Pain flared white-hot across my ribs, but I shoved it down and kicked hard, reaching again.
This time I caught him.
His head lolled, eyes closed, blood streaking his temple. He was heavy in the water, dead weight, but there was still breath—shallow, ragged—against my cheek.
“Don’t you dare,” I hissed, hooking my arm under his shoulder, dragging his limp body against me. “You hear me, Boone? Don’t you dare quit on me.”
The river tried to tear him away, but I held on with everything I had left, teeth gritted, muscles screaming. Inch by inch, I fought us back toward the tree.
The mother reached out, sobbing, her son clinging to her as she leaned down as far as she dared. I shoved Boone upward with every ounce of strength I had. He was as big as Adam; it was a good thing the water made it easier to lift him up.
“Pull him!” I gasped.
Together, we got him half onto the trunk. He coughed weakly, choking on river water, and my chest nearly broke with relief.
“You’re okay,” I whispered, collapsing against the branch beside him, trembling so hard my teeth chattered. “You’re okay. You’re all okay.”
But as the storm raged around us, I knew this wasn’t the end. Not even close.
Because somewhere out there, Adam was still fighting—and I had no idea if he was winning.
34
Raine
The storm hadn’t let up, but for the first time since the bridge gave way, we weren’t fighting to breathe. We clung to the half-submerged tree like castaways, our bodies shuddering with exhaustion.
Boone coughed again, rough and wet, spitting river water into the flood. His eyes cracked open, unfocused. “Hell of a… swim,” he rasped.
Relief flooded me so hard my knees nearly gave. “You scared the hell out of me,” I snapped, my voice breaking anyway.
“Join the club.” His grin was weak but real before his head slumped back against the bark. I saw the large knot on his head. he must have been knocked out. We made it back on shore.
The mother clung to her son a few feet away, whispering over and over, rocking him gently despite her own shivering frame. The boy stared at me, eyes wide, like he couldn’t believe we were still alive. Truth was, neither could I.
But we couldn’t stay here. The river was still rising, dragging debris past us in deadly waves. Any shift in the current could rip us loose.
