Chapter 25 Slava
SLAVA
The water is black and cold, and for three terrifying seconds, I can’t find her in it.
My hands search through the darkness but grasp nothing. The yacht’s lights cast fractured beams beneath the surface, illuminating particles of sediment and debris but not her, not the woman I just watched disappear beneath the waves like a stone dropped from God’s careless hand.
Blyad. Blyad. Blyad.
I kick deeper. My lungs are already burning. I dove in without thinking, without breathing, without anything except the image of her body hitting the water seared into my retinas.
Then, my fingers brush skin. I hook my arm under her waist and haul her towards me. Her body is limp, her black hair is spread across the water, and when we break the surface, she doesn’t move.
I practically throw her over the side of my boat, and then launch myself over her. Her lips are blue. Her skin is cold.
No. No!
I drop to my knees beside her, tilt her head back, and check her airway. Nothing. There’s no breath, and her chest is still.
“Bella!” I shout.
Nothing.
There’s no time left. I pinch her nose, seal my mouth over hers, and breathe. Her lips taste like seawater and regret.
Breathe, dammit! Breathe!
I pull back, check her chest, and it still doesn’t move. Her skin is clammy now, and growing colder. Placing my hands over her sternum, I start pushing—one, two, three, four, five—then breathe for her again.
Nothing.
My hands are shaking. C’mon, Bella! C’mon!
Five more compressions, then another breath. I’m pushing hard enough that I can hear her chest cracking. I might be breaking ribs right now for all I know, but I’d rather break her ribs than lose her outright.
“Come on!” My voice breaks down the middle like cheap glass. “Don’t you fucking dare die on me!”
Behind us, I can hear Don Leo laughing—that wheezing, wet chortle like a dying seal—and I swear that I’ll kill him.
But not right now. Now there’s only her.
One more compression.
One more breath.
And then—
She convulses beneath me.
Water erupts from her mouth in a violent, choking sputter. I roll her onto her side immediately, supporting her head as she coughs and heaves and finally, finally, finally sucks in air.
Relief rushes through me and I pull her tight against me before I can stop myself, feeling her wet, shaking body slowly warming back up. One hand cradles the back of her skull and the other is around her waist like I’m afraid she’ll dissolve if I let go.
“You’re alright,” I tell her, and I’m saying it as much for myself as for her. “You’re alright. I’ve got you. You’re alright.”
She’s shaking. Violent, full-body tremors that rattle her teeth together. Her fingers dig into my shoulder and grip me closer to her. A pained sob comes out of her mouth, and she whispers something indecipherable before she starts coughing again.
I glare back and see Don Leo giving me a mocking wave from the deck of his yacht. When I look back, Bella’s brown eyes are shimmering with tears.
“Please,” she whispers against my neck. “Get me out of here.”