He forced himself to calm, gritting his teeth against the panic that clawed at his throat. With broad, desperate strokes, he pushed himself through the water. He divided the river ahead into quadrants, searching each one before moving to the next.
There.
Far ahead, a shadowed shape cut through the water, her form almost swallowed by the low swells.Thank God. He glanced toward the retreating ship and after confirming no one had raised the alarm, kicked after her.
They reached the longboat at the same time. He grabbed the side of it, muscles burning, and pulled. It rocked with the weight of his effort, tipping dangerously close to the water.
He let go. “I need you to go to the other side and hold it steady while I get in.”
A wordless nod and she disappeared. She popped up on the other side and held on tightly, her knuckles white against the wood. With a series of strong kicks, he pulled himself up and hefted one leg over theedge. One more heave and he swung his other leg over and rolled in. The boat settled, and he sat up.
He grasped her hand and hauled her from the water. She collapsed onto her side, breathless and shivering. Without a word, he turned to unfasten the oars. By the time he dropped into his seat, she had taken the one opposite him.
His throat went dry and he averted his gaze. Thank goodness for the cloud coverage, because her clothing stuck to her like a second skin. With a swallow, he forced the sudden heat in his core to retreat.
Focus.
Teeth clenched, he threw his weight into the oars, the rhythmic pull of them through the water grounding him, forcing his mind back to the task at hand. Several minutes passed, a tense silence settling over them. Not much farther. Between the splashes of his paddles, the lap of waves against the shore punctuated the night air.
Movement caught his eye. A pale column of light stretched across the water, sharp and sudden, creeping toward them with unsettling speed.
“Damn it,” he muttered, rowing faster. As if he could outrun it.
A moment later, the water glistened around them, the moonlight’s reach turning the dark swells silver, exposing every ripple, every shift in the waves—every board of the longboat.
He cursed again, keeping his eyes on the dark shadow of Thorne’s ship. His arms trembled as he threw his all into the oars, slamming them through the water. He grunted with each stroke, the longboat cutting through the river like an arrow shot into the night.
A clanging pierced the stillness, sharp and jarring. His muscles tensed, eyes pressing shut for a heartbeat. An alarm bell. Their absence had been noticed. He cast a desperate glance at the sky, silently pleading for the clouds to smother the moon. Instead, the stars burned cold and relentless above them.
Returning his focus to theAvenger, his heart lurched. She hadslowed. Only a few hundred yards separated them. Too close for comfort. Lanterns swayed on the main deck, casting long shadows as the bell’s toll lingered like a death knell. And then, a small flash of light, there and gone in an instant.
Shit.
He dropped the oars and grabbed Josephine’s arm. “Overboard, NOW!”
His feet slipped on the wet boards as he jumped up and threw her. He followed, pushing off the boat in a sloppy dive, grimacing as a high-pitched whistle filled his ears. As his face smacked the water, the world behind him erupted in a blinding burst of light. A crack like thunder split the sea as a wall of heat punched through the air. The shockwave slammed him underwater in a violent surge that drove the breath from his lungs.
The sea churned around him as glowing bits of flaming wood splashed down like falling stars. A ringing filled his ears and the pressure in his chest built into a scream. Kicking hard, he clawed his way upward through a dark maze of bubbles and debris. He broke the surface and sucked in a breath, gunpowder and ash choking his lungs.
“Miss Montclair?” He twisted, kicking in a frantic circle, eyes scanning the wreckage strewn across the waves.
No answer.
He dove, hands blindly combing through the murky water. Something brushed his leg—seaweed? A shred of clothing? He couldn’t tell. His hands grasped for it but it had already swept away in the current. As he fumbled forward, his vision narrowed, lungs already screaming for air. Every instinct demanded he keep searching, but his body gave him no choice. With a furious kick, he tore upward and broke the surface in a ragged gasp.
“Josephine!” This time he shouted, voice raw as her name tore from his throat.
A faint cough broke the deafening silence.
He spun.
“I’m here.” She floated next to an overturned section of the hull, hair plastered to her face, eyes wide as she gasped for breath.
Relief crashed through him so hard he nearly choked on it. His feet kicked hard, his arms slicing through the water as he swam toward her. A splintered plank bumped against his shoulder and he swatted it aside. “Are you hurt?”
She shook her head and angled away from his extended hand. “I’m fine.”
Before he could say anything else, she began paddling for shore. With a tight jaw, he followed, keeping one length behind her. The shallows crept up quickly, and soon his feet dragged against silt. It clung to each step, sucking at his boots as if the river itself meant to hold him back. Josephine staggered forward, and he reached for her elbow, steadying her.
