A sleek go-fast boat waited for them close to the shore, Jane at the wheel. Tinker tossed the battering ram into the boat and hauled himself over the side.
Braedon stumbled in the water and went to his knees, taking Devon with him. Addison gasped, watching them struggle to find their footing, but they managed to gain their feet. Devon hefted Braedon up and Tinker pulled him in the boat. Graham did the same with Michael.
“Ladies,” Graham called. “Your turn.”
It wasn’t the most graceful entrance she’d ever executed, but she made it into the boat without landing on anyone.
Once everyone was on board, Jane throttled the engines and turned the boat west, heading into the Black Sea. She heard the deep thrum of helicopter blades over the roar of the engine and splash of waves. Her heart leapt in her throat, and she scanned the sky overhead. Floodlights from three hovering helicopters illuminated the castle. Men fast-roped down to the courtyard and roof.
She exchanged glances with Paige. The helicopters weren’t for them—it was the raid on the castle. Tsarevna was going down.
Addison scrambled up and followed Braedon and Michael into the small hold of the boat, doing her best to ignore her somersaulting stomach. Mats and sleeping bags were laid out for them.
Braedon sat on one of the mats, shivering. She set her rifle down and took off all her gear.
“Take off your clothes and get in the sleeping bag.” She pulled at the hem of his shirt.
He slapped her hands away. “I can do it.”
“Don’t be stubborn,” she said.
Braedon stripped out of the white T-shirt and gray sweat pants and slid into the sleeping bag. Michael took off his pants, since those were the only things that got wet, and slid into the other bag.
It hit her suddenly. Braedon was safe. He was alive and safe. They were all alive and safe. She plopped down on her butt, covered her face with her hands, and burst into tears.
“Ah, shit.”
Braedon pulled her closer and wrapped her in a tight hug. She wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed tight. She might never let him go.
“You’re choking me,” he said.
“I don’t care.”
“You came all this way to rescue us and now you’re going to kill me? Doesn’t make a lot of sense.”
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t,” he whispered.
She shook her head against his neck. “No, I don’t.”
Doing her best to breathe through her nose, she closed her eyes. A full-body shudder shook her.
“You going to be sick?” he asked.
“Yup.” She dashed out of the hold and hung her head over the side of the boat, emptying the contents of her stomach into the dark sea.
A rough blanket draped over her, and a large hand rubbed her back.
“Christian picked up some anti-motion sickness medicine,” Devon said. “Let me know when you think you can keep it down.”
She nodded through a stomach spasm and groaned, grabbing onto his hand that rested on the rail. Wiping her mouth with her sleeve, she pressed her forehead against his arm and chest.
“Think you can lie down with your brother and take some medicine?”
She nodded and let him lead her back into the cabin, thankful that for once she didn’t have to take care of herself.
