The thing inside me that was barely contained, starved for months, finally breaks free.
I hit the edge of the platform and dive.
FIFTY-FIVE
TRISTAN
The cold water is a living thing, wrapping around my body like hundreds of hands trying to drag me into the void.
I don't care.
I've survived worse. And nothing—not the cold, not the dark, not the fire building in my lungs—is going to stop me from finding them.
I swim down, my hands sweeping through freezing black water. Reaching. Searching. Every second stretching as Hale's face flashes through my mind.
I will tear this river apart molecule by molecule before I let it take him from me.
My fingers close on fabric.
Keira's right there, not flailing or drowning but holding strong.
She's fighting.
Through the murk, I catch the glint of metal in her hand. A blade, sawing through the rope binding Hale's ankle.
She came prepared.
That's my fucking girl.
I don't waste time on relief. I grab the rope with both hands and pull in the opposite direction, creating tension for her blade. Thefibers are thick, but between her edge and my strength, they begin to fray.
Hale floats limp between us.
Don't you dare.
The rope finally snaps, and the concrete block plummets into the abyss below.
I hook one arm around my son's small body, the other around Keira's waist. My lungs are burning, vision starting to narrow, but I kick toward the surface with everything I have left. Every muscle. Every ounce of strength. Every promise I've ever made to the woman beside me and the boy in my arms.
Not like this.
Not when we're this fucking close.
We break through.
Air tears into my frozen lungs. My body fights for oxygen while I struggle to keep us afloat. Keira is choking up water beside me, gasping, but she's breathing. She's alive.
Hale is still, lips blue, his body hanging limp in my grip.
His chest doesn't rise.
"Hale." I shake him gently. Then harder. "Hale, come on?—"
Nothing.
An engine sounds, then sweeping lights are on us.
"I'VE GOT THEM!" Zoe's voice. Has to be.
