65. Lilith
CHAPTER SIXTY FIVE
T hick sheets of rain drenched my skin, slicking my hair against my face as I sprinted across the docks, my hand clasped tightly in Silas’.
Run. Just run.
The storm raged around us, the wind slamming into me like a physical force, cutting through my soaked clothes, whipping the scent of salt and oil in the air. The metal rigging on the boats groaned under the pressure, ropes straining, wooden planks beneath my feet slippery with rain and seawater.
I gasped for breath, lungs burning, the sound of my own pulse pounding against my skull.
Then, I stopped.
Just—stopped dead.
Silas’ fingers slipped from mine as he kept going, his body still moving forward at full speed. He didn’t even notice at first, too focused on getting us the fuck out of here.
The world tilted.
I couldn’t breathe.
The thought came out of nowhere—like a bullet between the ribs.
Scratching. Hitching. Struggling.
Clark was drowning. He was dying.
Silas spun, finally realising I wasn’t there anymore. “Lilith?” His voice was rough, breathless, barely carrying over the storm.
I couldn’t move.
Every nerve in my body screamed to turn around, to keep running, to leave.
He deserved it. Every single second of it.
But did I? Did I deserve the guilt? Did Silas deserve the guilt?
I gripped my hair, nails pressing into my scalp, the pressure the only thing keeping me upright.
Coughing. C rying. Writhing.
I couldn’t breathe.
“Lilith? What are you doing? We need to GO .”
If I left Clark now—
If I left him to drown—
My lungs hitched, vision tilting.
I wasn’t this person.
I couldn’t do this.
Silas’ shout split through the rain. “Lilith!”
I ran. My feet pounded against the slick wood, the wind clawing at my soaked clothes, rain lashing at my skin.
Clark was going to die.
The yacht groaned, tilting further into the water, the dock cracking under my weight as I launched myself onto the unsteady deck. My stomach pitched with the movement, balance wavering as the entire world shifted around me.
The moment my feet hit the flooded boards, I slid, knees smacking down onto the drenched wood with a sharp crack.
I gritted my teeth, pushing myself up, fingers digging into the wood for leverage.
I was too late.
He was gone.
The dark, churning water had already pulled him beneath the surface. His body no longer a shape, no longer a shadow, just a void.
But I didn’t need to see. I knew where he was.
Gasping. Choking. Fading.
No.
No.
My legs moved before my brain caught up, I launched forward, throwing my entire weight into the flood.
I dove, arms outstretched, fingers searching blindly through the icy depths until they snagged fabric.
Got him.
I yanked.
Dead weight. Heavy. Limp.
My lungs burned, heart pounding violently as I fought against the pull of the sinking yacht, against the storm that wanted to swallow us both whole.
He wasn’t moving. Not kicking. Not struggling. Nothing.
I kicked harder, dragging him upward with every last ounce of strength left in me.
Too heavy. Too damn heavy.
My vision tunnelled, knees threatening to give out beneath me—
A pair of hands ripped him from my grasp.
His guttural shout barely reached through the wind, the rain, the pounding in my skull. “What the hell are you doing?!”
He was seething, jaw clenched so tight I could hear his teeth grind over the storm, but still—still, he helped me.
Clark was a corpse between us.
We pulled, we struggled, each step harder than the last, water grabbing at our limbs, making everything sluggish and impossible.
Silas grunted through the roar around us. “Lilith, we don’t have time for this!”
“I can’t leave him!” The words ripped out of me, and I fucking hated myself for it.
Silas all but growled, but didn’t let go. Didn’t stop. Didn’t leave me behind.
The water was pulling him down.
And we were pulling him up.
Fighting. Failing. Twitching.
“Come on, come on,” I gasped, fingers clawing into Clark’s drenched shirt, hauling him inch by inch out of the sinking yacht. Silas grunted beside me, planting his feet against the wood, dragging with everything he had against the water.
“Fucking, move!” Silas barked, giving one last, brutal heave.
Clark’s body flopped onto the dock, motionless.
I staggered back, chest heaving, rain and ocean spray blurring my vision.
“Now, come on. Let’s go, Lilith!” Silas shouted over the wind, already turning away.
I didn’t move. I couldn’t. Clark wasn’t breathing.
I dropped to my knees.
“No—no, no, no—” my hands shook violently as I pressed my fingers to Clark’s throat.
No pulse, no movement, no shallow rise of his chest.
Waves crashed around us, spilling freezing, foamy water over my knees, soaking his lifeless body.
This wasn’t happening.
“Come on,” I gasped, shoving my hands against his ribcage, pressing down hard.
I didn’t know what I was doing. Just doing something. Anything .
“Lilith, we have to go. NOW.”
I ignored him. I pushed harder, my hands slamming down against Clark’s chest, over and over.
“Breathe, you asshole!” My voice cracked. My arms burned. Bones shifted beneath my palms cracking from the weight.
I hit again, harder, gritting my teeth as I pressed every last ounce of desperation into my hands. “Breathe, Clark!”
Silas grabbed m e, his hands closing tight around my arms, yanking me back. “Lilith, stop!”
I wrenched free, pulse slamming against my skull, my whole body quaking. “I can’t—he can’t die!”
Lifeless. Still. Hollow.
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” he shouted, voice raw with disbelief. He shoved me aside, dropping onto his knees next to me. “Move, Lilith.”
His hands trembled for a fraction of a second before he pressed them down over Clark’s chest and started compressions.
“One, two, three, four —fuck, come on.”
I squeezed my arms around myself. This was so so wrong.
“Five, six, seven—breathe, you motherfucker.”
He ripped his scarf down his face, leaned down, tilted Clark’s head back and pinched his nose.
I pressed a hand over my mouth as Silas breathed for him.
He pulled back, scowling.
Nothing.
“Fucking breathe, you piece of shit!”
Bile rose up my throat. The rain lashed against us, mixing with the blood seeping from Clark’s split lip, the deep cut near his temple, the bruises blooming beneath his soaked shirt.
Silas gritted his teeth, shoulders tightened, whole body coiled with pure frustration as he leaned in again and smashed a fist to Clark’s chest.
A violent, heaving cough tore from Clark’s throat, his whole frame convulsing as seawater gushed out of his mouth like he was about to turn himself inside out.
Right into Silas’ face.
Rainwater dripped from his soaked curls, sea foam and spit sliding down his cheek.
I flinched back.
Clark was still retching and sputtering as he tried to drag in a breath—just one measly lungful of oxygen.
But Silas didn’t let him. His fist connected with Clark’s already mangled face.
“No! Stop it!” My voice split through the night, raw and desperate, hands grabbing at Silas’ arm, trying to wrench him back before he went in again.
He snarled, jerking away from me. “Per l’amor di Dio, Lilith!”
Clark gurgled, barely alive.
I turned on Silas, heart pounding, fingers fisted in his soaked sleeve. “We have to take him to a hospital! Now!”
His eyes flashed, chest heaving. “No,” he snapped. “We have to throw him back into the sea and let him drown like he deserves!”
“Hospital. No w.”
He growled as he shoved himself up to his feet, and I scrambled up beside him.
Without a word, he reached down, grabbed Clark’s ankle, and dragged him across the slick dock like a sack of garbage, leaving a smearing trail of blood in his wake.
“Can I at least put him on the fucking roof?” Silas bit out. “I don’t want him touching the seats.”