She felt the other girl’s presence more than she saw her. The shadowson the floor flickered, and Sydney looked up through her swimming vision to see Penelope jumping down at her.
Somehow, through her fight to breathe, Sydney managed to roll out of the way—but Penelope saw the movement coming and shifted with her. Then Penelope was on top of her, pinning her down with her legs, and her hands were wrapped tightly around Sydney’s neck.
Penelope wasn’t nearly as strong as her, but Sydney was too exhausted to fend her off. She fought to suck in enough air—her chest exploded with pain each time—her eyes widened in agony. She was going to drown here. She tried to roll the girl off, but when she glanced to her side, she saw two more of Penelope’s guards running toward them. One of them pointed a gun at her.
It was over. Sydney knew her lips must be turning blue now, her mouth opening and closing in gasps. The darkness was closing in, along with the inevitability of her death. So, this was how she was going to go. Alone, on board this ship, after having failed a mission, out of breath. Her partner gone.
Sydney clawed for Penelope’s face, but the lack of air had weakened her and thrown her off, and Penelope stayed grimly on. The girl’s eyes had gone flat now, but behind it, Sydney could still see the pulse of that strange empathy, as if Penelope were choking herself.
This was how it would end. Tears sprang up in Sydney’s eyes as she struggled to breathe. Her head tilted in the direction of the flares.
And only then did she see him.
He looked hunched, and the hand clutching his wounded shoulder was covered in blood, and his black hair was streaked with blood, and his arms were slashed in blood, but Winter wasstanding there,right by the flares, with something clutched in his other fist. Sydney’s lips trembled.
Winter.
Blood sprinkled his arms and leaked down his chest. But he was here.He was still alive.
And suddenly, she remembered being rescued from the prison cell during her past mission, of Niall’s gruff, kind face bending down to her, his hands helping her to her feet.Time to go, kid,he’d said.
Winter lifted his good arm and pointed the object high into the air.
A flare.
And right as Penelope noticed where Sydney was looking, Winter fired it.
33
Worthy
He didn’t wait to see if the flare went high enough, or whether or not it burst. The instant he’d fired it, he just dropped it and sprinted for Sydney. His wound sent spasms of agony through him, but all he could focus on was the sight of her there on the floor, of Penelope’s hands around her neck, the tears glossy in her eyes. All he could do was react to the look in her eyes, the blueness of her lips.
As if she was making peace with her own death.
Oh, hell no.Winter’s hands clenched into fists as he ran.
As the first guard approached him, he turned sideways and kicked off the wall of the bridge, then twisted so that his boots connected right with the guard’s face. The move caught the other man completely by surprise. Winter took the moment to kick straight at the man’s armed hand. The gun flew out of his grasp and spun across the deck toward Penelope.
As if in slow motion, he could see Penelope reaching for the spinning gun. He forced himself forward.
His boot hit the gun before she could reach it. It spun sideways. He dropped and rolled with it. Tears seared his vision from the pain. He clenched his jaw and reached for the weapon with the last of his strength.
Then his hand closed around the grip. He twisted against the floor to point it at Penelope. Pinned beneath her, Sydney’s movements had stilled.
Penelope stared at him, then gave him a hard smile. Her hands stayed locked around Sydney’s neck.
You can’t do it,her eyes said. Strangely, in this moment, he saw a spark of something he recognized in her, some wild, deep well of anger that he’d first noticed at her apartment.
Suddenly, he felt someone barrel hard into him. Hands clawed at his face and scrambled for his gun.
In the blur, he recognized his attacker—it was Connor, his face bloody from the Paramecium that had exploded in the storage room, his eyes bloodshot and teary from the chemical burn. His growl rattled harshly in his throat, as if he were dying.
Still, he was strong. Winter fell to the floor at the attack. He fought to hang onto his gun—but Connor seized his wrist, forcing him to drop it. Winter kicked it before the man could grab the handle. The weapon went skidding across the deck.
Somewhere in the distance, Winter thought he heard the sound of helicopter blades.
Connor swung a fist at his face. Winter managed to duck the blow—but a second fist caught him on his jaw. Stars exploded across his vision. He twisted away and rolled, recalling a bit of choreography he’d once learned, then struggled to his feet.
