“Goodbye, Faina.” He pulls the trigger, and hot pain explodes in my shoulder. The force of the blow sends me stumbling backward with a cry, but there’s nothing for me to grab onto.
The railing hits my lower back for a split second and then I’m toppling over it and falling down, down, down….
33
FAINA
The force of hitting the water knocks a grunt of air out of me, and the sea closes over my head like a hundred cold hands clutching at my body.
He shot me.
He actually shot me.
But he didn’t kill me.
Hot pain throbs through my shoulder where the bullet made contact, but given how I can still move my arm, it feels more like a bad flesh wound than a painful impact. But it’s difficult to do anything for a few long seconds as the cold shocks my system and I drift down into an infinite darkness.
Through the water, the yacht twinkles and shimmers like a mirage in the sky and several beams of light appear through the water. They must be searching for me.
I can’t let them find me.
Cian’s plan seems to have been to split us up, but I can barely think through the cold to estimate what he wants me to do after that. As I drift down with shock locking up my muscles and joins, no air escapes past my lips but my heart continues to pound.
For a single moment, I consider this to be the end.
After all, what if Cian wasn’t lying and he’s just a terrible shot at a close distance? Maybe this is to be my death?
No.
I can’t end it here.
If not for me then definitely not my baby. They don’t deserve to have their life snuffed out so early when I’ve spent the last few weeks daydreaming about what they might look like.
Sense finally kicks back in after what was only a few seconds, although it felt like so much water. Kicking my legs hard, I move through the water and swing one arm to pull myself along. After a few strokes, I grit my teeth and push through the pain of using my injured shoulder to swim. Each stroke of my arm sends a fire of pain through my body.
My lungs begin to burn and ache from a lack of air.
My stomach somersaults and twists as muscles contract, trying to force me to breathe.
My heart pounds and my head is woozy all the while I keep swimming. I swing my arms, kick my legs, and swim with all my strength underneath the yacht to use it for cover. We’d been brought aboard via helicopter, but during the flight, I’d seen several speedboats and dinghies attached to the side of the yacht, which means there should be several spots for me to climb back on board.
I just need to get there.
It feels simple until on the next stroke, my dress becomes tangled around one leg and refuses to let go. The sheet fabric clings like a second skin and tightens each time I kick my leg. Without my legs to push me through the water, I only have my arms to drag me and there’s no way I’ll get there before I run out of air.
Shit, shit!
Panic rises and despite my best efforts, none of my calming thoughts work. Treading water while slowly sinking, I reach behind myself and wrestle with the zip. It tugs down an inch, then another, and finally a third inch, giving me enough space to pry the dress from my body and past my waist. Free from the constraint, I kick the dress down into the depths of the ocean and resume my frantic swim along the edge of the yacht.
My lungs are on fire. Every cell inside me screams for air and the throbbing agony of my shoulder is no longer the loudest pain. I’m going to drown. I need air.
I need air.
Ineed air.
…air!
With the last of my strength, I kick as hard as I can and swim upward toward a darkness that seems as infinite as the shadows closing in around me from below.
