The pressure releases.
I come up with a violent splash, retching and gasping. Water pours from my nose, my mouth. My chest spasms with brutal coughing fits that feel like they might tear me apart from the inside.
I still can’t breathe. Can’t get enough air. Every attempt sends me into fresh waves of choking. My vision swims, black spots still dancing. The world tilts sickeningly.
More water comes up—fuck, I’m vomiting, stream water mixed with whatever was left in my stomach. My whole body shakes, adrenaline and shock coursing through me like poison.
Cas is there, slapping my back, but I barely register it. I’m still gasping like a landed fish, my lungs refusing to work properly.
“Fucking hell,” someone whispers.
My hands won’t stop trembling. Bile coats my tongue.
I stare at Marco through the water still dripping from my eyelashes.
He’s holding himself completely still. Expressionless. Like what just happened was nothing more than a training drill.
This same man who stroked my hair. Who kissed me. Who made me promises he didn’t keep.
The rage hits me with an all-consuming crash.
I throw myself at him.
No technique. No strategy. Just blind, animal fury. I want to claw his eyes out. Want to make him bleed the way he’s made my heart bleed. My fingernails rake across his forearm, leaving angry red lines. He jerks back, but I’m already lunging again.
“Robin!” Cas shouts behind me.
For a moment, Marco only blocks. Defensive. Like he’s surprised by the attack. But then his training kicks in, and I’m so weak from drowning that he easily overpowers me.
He slams me onto my back. His forearm presses against my throat, knee pinning my chest, other arm trapping both of mine.
My lungs are already starved. I haven’t recovered. And now he’s cutting me off again.
Sick fucking psycho bastard.
“Fight,” he grits through clenched teeth, water dripping from his soaking hair.
The edges of my vision flicker. I try to buck him off, but there’s no strength left. My body betrays me again, going limp when I need it most.
“Marco!” René’s voice, sharp with concern.
Marco ignores him. His arm presses harder. “Fight me off, or you’re going to die.”
If I had any breath, I’d laugh. All this work training me up to be a show pony, just for Marco to suffocate me in a fit of rage.
“Marco! He’s going blue!”
This is it then. The end.
Suddenly the weight lifts. I inhale sharply—a loud, ragged thing that echoes through the trees. Echoes through my ears.
It takes a moment to understand what happened.
René has grabbed Marco’s shoulder, pulled him off me. I gasp, stunned, watching as René backs away from him with his hands raised. His eyes dart nervously between Marco and me, clearly expecting to feel Marco’s wrath next for daring to interfere.
René saved me.
René saved me from Marco.
