She trailed off, lost in the memory. I waited silently, giving her the space to continue if she wanted to.
“They said I was underwater for almost two minutes before someone pulled me out,” she finally said. “Sometimes, I still wake up feeling like I can’t breathe.”
The vulnerability in her admission touched something in me. Cara had always seemed so shy, so closed off. A stereotypical bookworm. I’d never gotten the chance to truly know her. Not yet. Now I wondered what other depths she concealed behind her quiet exterior.
Lightning flashed in the not-so-far distance, illuminating the roiling clouds that darkened the horizon. “We should head back,” I said,
She nodded but didn’t move. “Do you ever wonder if someone who’s broken can ever just…be fixed?”
The question hung between us, raw and honest in a way that conversations rarely were. Rain streamed down her face, indistinguishable from tears.
Was she talking about her trauma from her near-drowning or about whatever happened during her kidnapping? I moved closer, our shoulders almost touching as we faced the angry sea together.
“I used to think no,” I admitted. “Like there was a crack running through me that would never heal. But now, I think maybe we’re not broken—just changed. Forced to become stronger in ways we never should’ve had to, but we did.”
“I don’t feel strong,” Cara whispered.
“Sometimes, the things that hurt us, that terrify us most, still have a strong hold on us, but that doesn’t mean we’re not strong,” I said finally.
Cara nodded, wrapping her arms around herself. Her sundress clung to her slim frame, soaked through by the rain. “Cristo says I’m stronger than I think.” She smiled. “But I’m really not brave. I’m really not strong.”
“Being afraid and not being brave or strong are not the same thing,” I replied, surprising myself with the conviction in my voice. “You’ve been through so much, and you’re still standing. You’re compassionate, you laugh, and you care. You put your life on hold to help your sister with her new baby. All of this tells me you are strong. You didn’t give up; you didn’t let what happened to you define who you are or how you show up in life—that’s the only kind of bravery that matters.”
She gave me a small, grateful smile that transformed her face. “That’s almost exactly what Cristo told me. He said real courage isn’t about not being afraid—it’s about being terrified and marching on anyway.”
“My cousin is a smart guy,” I said, returning her smile. “Irritating, but smart.”
She laughed softly, the sound unexpected and genuine. “He is irritating, isn’t he? And yet…”
“And yet you can’t take your eyes off him,” I finished for her.
A blush crept up her cheeks. “Is it that obvious?”
Yes, it was; of course it was.
“Female intuition,” I said, or maybe it was only obvious to someone who was in the exact same situation. I just wished Ivan would openly look at me like Cristo looked at Cara.
Fuck this distance thing. Fuck that enemy shit with my brother. From my perspective Ivan was pretty fucking perfect, at least for right now, and I would for sure not wait around for someone else to weigh in on my love life, especially not Vince.
Cara studied me for a moment. “Are you thinking about Ivan Zotov?” she asked tentatively.
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak about him right now, not before I set the record straight with him.
“He looks at you differently than he looks at anyone else,” she murmured. “Like the hero in a romance novel who is completely smitten with the FMC.”
The insight surprised me—I hadn’t realized Cara was so perceptive…or that he looked at me like that. “It’s complicated,” I said lamely.
“It always is, isn’t it?” she replied with unexpected wisdom.
I’d rarely spoken with Cara one on one before, and I found myself wishing we’d had more chances to get to know each other. There was a depth to her I appreciated—a quiet intelligence that reminded me of my twin.
The distant sound of helicopters suddenly cut through the rumble of thunder. We both looked up, squinting through the rain that was now falling steadily. Five military-style helicopters flew low over the water, heading directly toward us.
“That can’t be good,” I said, scanning the sky. Those weren’t commercial helicopters—they were the kind used for tactical operations.
Cara tensed beside me, her momentary ease vanishing. “Should we go back to the others?”
I nodded, suddenly even more aware of how exposed and alone we were out here. “Come on.”
