"You can't stop thinking about me!"
"You wish!"
Wings thrash from the rocks, birds fleeing a storm they never saw coming—me. I run over the rock, trying not to slip.
"And even if I did ever think about you," I scream from the top of my lungs, "doesn't mean I want you back!"
A beat.
Then his shout slices through the air, lethal: "I hate you! And don't forgive you!"
"Perfect!" I shriek, heart exploding. "Then we're even!"
His voice curdles, like he's been holding this for years: "Not that you'd ever apologize. Of course not! That would mean you're not actuallyperfect." He spits the last word.
He's the one to talk about apologies! I rip my dress off and fling it behind me, my skin prickling from the ocean breeze.
"One photo of an old friend—my ass," I shout over my shoulder.
Silence.
He must be stunned.
I'm running forward, stripped down to my lace underwear and completely out of my senses.
Then his voice comes back, strained, a thread of concern woven through it. "Where the hell are you going? Come back! Right now! It's deep. The currents—"
"You don't tell me what to do," I say, only half to him. "I'm not yours. Never been."
"Emma, stop." His fury breaks into something more serious. I hear him move behind me, but I'm already stepping closer to the edge, toes curling into stone as I look down.
The ocean snarls below with dark, cold, merciless waves crashing everything.
It's scary.
But at least it's honest.
At least it doesn't pretend to love me.
Wind claws at my hair, like it's trying to drag me back.
Too late.
I suck in air so sharp it cuts—and leap.
"Emma!" Ben's voice rips through my bones, following me down before the water swallows me whole.
The ocean hits like ice fire, so much colder than what I expected. And instantly—pain. The current smashes me against the rocks, drags me under, then spits me up again. Salt stings my eyes, filling even my mouth.
There's a sting in my ribs that burns through my chest, but I don't have time to focus on it since I'm smacking my arms around, trying to keep myself above the water.
Another pull-down as I barely manage to suck in some air.
The green-black water spins me like a rag-doll while I claw at anything, kicking, panicking. I don't even know where I am, how deep I am, and I keep being slammed against the cliff.
But in the depths of that darkness, the real panic hits.
Shit, what have I done? Ben hates the water, ever since saving Mara. It's the only place that steals his power. He can't help me. He can only watch—watch me drowning.
