“Delaynie!” His furious call tore through the chaos of the night.
Panic sank into his chest like a knife when he caught sight of the deck, half submerged and sinking in the waves. Of the door that led to their quarters, still closed.
Somehow, over the din of the capsized ship, he heard a hand banging against wood.
He threw himself into action, arms stroking and legs kicking. He fought past debris and unconscious bodies, through barrels and crates and canvas sails. He reached the deck, rising vertically from the waves.
The storm still raged. Water still pelted the now-exposed underside of the ship, pushing it further toward the horizon.
With a thrum of soul-crushing dread, Quentin raced for the door. Sweet, momentary relief greeted him when he still heard the banging, Delaynie’s sharp cries seeping through the wood.
“Delaynie! I’m here!”
“Quentin?” Her voice was muffled but audible. “The door is stuck. I can’t get it open?—”
Her words were swallowed by a great, terrifying groan.
The ship tipped.
Tipped, tipped, tipped…
Quentin drew in a great breath of air, bracing himself as the ship flipped completely.
Trapping both himself and Delaynie beneath it.
Chapter 51
The water was quiet and loud all at once.
Quentin’s back hit the now-submerged deck, pinning him beneath the water. He still gripped the door handle leading below deck. Something boomed and burst, echoing through the water.
A window shattering.
Delaynie’s pounding on the other side of the wood grew softer, weaker. Gritting his teeth, Quentin fought against the swirling currents threatening to pull them both down with the ship. He braced his feet on the deck, planted his hands on the door, andpushed.
Maybe it was the fear coursing through him.
Maybe it was the pressure of the water on a door that was never meant to be submerged.
Maybe it was something else, something he was ready to acknowledge, but his little wolf wouldn’t let him say.
The door buckled. The brass lock snapped, another boom under the water. The door flew open, water rushing into the cabin.
Through the frothing, churning sea, a pale hand reached out. He surged forward, the current pulling and snapping at him.
Her hand went limp just as he grabbed it.
With a desperate roar that used breath he didn’t have, Quentin braced against the doorframe and heaved Delaynie from the ship’s cabin.
He wrapped his arm around her waist, trying to ignore the panic at how she’d gone lifeless, how those bright blue eyes were closed.
They needed to get out from under here, or they would drown. His lungs burned, vision spotting around the edges.
The current was slowing, the ship above him rocking as it bobbed in place on the surface. Quentin pushed off the door frame, using the deck to guide him forward, hoping and praying to whatever god would listen that it would take him to a place where they could escape from beneath the capsized vessel.
A soft golden light flickered to life ahead of him. As if his prayer was somehow answered.
It was of theallumelamps that had been mounted to the main staff. Now fallen and submerged, but still alight, still giving off enough of a glow to illuminate the water around them.
