Chapter 21
I’m diving back into the tumultuous water before I can think better of it. The life jacket works against me, keeping me above the water, when I need to swim beneath it.
Chelsea’s screaming unrestrained behind me, the tape removed from her mouth.
Sam must think it will get me back in the boat.
It almost does.
She pleads in tandem with him, begging for me to just get back on the raft.
Brad resurfaces, pale and visibly confused. I scream his name, and the shrill sound must clear the fog enough for him to start carving a path toward me.
He’s slow, only using one of his arms that I can see as I swim in his direction.
“What are you doing?” he rasps as I approach him, wrapping my uninjured hand around his middle.
“Saving your ass,” I choke out, trying not to swallow anymore salt water.
“Why?”
“Can we maybe discuss this later? If we live.”
He slams his lips shut, eyes leaving my face to refocus on the destination.
Our movements are unsynchronized and sloppy, but we make up the distance between us and the raft quickly with Chelsea leaned over the side, using her hand to paddle, and Sam slicing through the water with the oar.
It’s a brave move on his part to unbind my sister.
I half expect her to push him into the ocean, and I’m sure if this was any other situation, she would.
Brad’s breaths begin to wheeze as we tread water. Sam reaches for me, but I shake my head. “Him first.”
Sam observes me, clearly shocked by what a piece of shit I’m not turning out to be. I wonder if that’s how he rationalizes what he does. Everyone sold into his hellish world must have colossally wronged the seller in some way, warranting their punishment or complete eradication.
Brad mumbles something, but lifts his hand to Sam’s nonetheless. I strain, trying to lift his muscular body from the ocean that’s fighting to suck him back in and swallow him whole.
Sam gets a hold of Brad’s shirt, struggling to pull him into the boat before it slips off his body.
My sister ignores Brad completely, extending her hand to me. It’s a desperate plea for me to choose myself, but I can’t, not when I’ve come this far already.
“Chelsea, fucking help us!” I scream.
“No,” she growls. “Give me your hand.”
I don’t fault her for not wanting to help Brad after what he put her through. But…his ass is literally pushing my face into the shark filled ocean, so maybe she could bury the hatchet for just one moment.
Any rebuttal I had lined up is choked off by a gurgle as a wave plows into my side, pushing me away from safety.
“Rose!” Sam yells.
Brad lifts his head slightly. Enough to witness the pointed grey fin charging my way. He rallies all his remaining strength, shoving himself over the side and into the boat, freeing Sam up to help me.
But he’s too late.
An ominous eye breaks the surface, shining in the light of the rising sun breaking through the clouds as it focuses on me. Maw opening wide, rows and rows of teeth steal my breath as I watch the water rush between them in slow motion. A strong tail propels its torpedo-shaped body right for me.
I rush with frantic, uncoordinated movements to get the life vest removed. My hair has woven itself through the buckle, snugly tangling around the clasp. Ripping and tearing through the small rats nest, I manage to un-click the fastener.
Heaving in a deep breath, I drop out of the life jacket and slip into the water below. The shark plows full-steam into the floating orange vest, snapping and thrashing. Its frenzied movements rip the still-tethered hair free, and I swim for my life.
Popping up next to the raft, I choke out a breath. Kicking with all my remaining energy while I extend my hands toward the sky.
Sam’s there, reaching for me. Working his hands around my body while I cling to him like he’s the only lifeline I’ve got.
“Chelsea!” he screams, loud enough to alter my hearing.
She’s there, then gone in a flash. Returning with the oar, and smashing it down upon the resurfacing shark’s head before it has a chance to take a chunk out of either Sam or I.
The massive beast disappears below the surface and Chelsea’s nails dig into my wet skin as she helps Sam tug me into the raft.
Her eyes cut into me like daggers as I lay there next to Brad trying to catch my breath.
His come in agonized gasps, a wince pulling at his features with every new inhale.
There’s no blood spilling from him, only a few reddened streaks across his shirt that could be from either of us. “Are you all right?” I rasp.
“Yeah. Just a cracked rib.”
“How can you be sure?”
“It’s not my first one, probably won’t be my last.”
I’ll take his word for it seeing as I’ve never experienced that before.
Sitting in the silence surrounding us, I take a moment to bask in the dampening storm. The pounding rain tapers off to a light drizzle and the clouds start to part, allowing the full scope of the magical sunrise to be seen.
High up on a cliff in the distance sits a mansion, its many windows glistening in the beaming morning light.
Envy blooms deep in my gut. Why should they get to experience that otherworldly beauty everyday, completely unaware of the horrors playing out on the sands below them?
Do they know how lucky they are? To live such a life of carelessness—of luxury.
Or do they hate the sunrise? Loathe how it invades their space too aggressively before they’re ready to greet the new day.
Too blinded by their own ignorance to see the paradise before them—the reprieve they take for granted that others would kill for?
Brad groans, loud and pained, tearing me free from the green pit of envy I swan-dived into as he pulls himself into a sitting position.
Some sharks have a hunting technique called bump-and-bite.
They basically plow into their prey like a speeding Mac truck, hoping to stun, kill, or investigate it before eating.
I’m surprised all of Brad’s ribs aren’t broken and his spine’s still in one piece.
Sliding off the small backpack, he pulls out another oar, extending it. How he plans to row with busted ribs is beyond me, but I’m not about to offer a faster route to my demise.
Chelsea scrambles, trying to reach the other oar. But Sam’s one step ahead, snatching it up before she can reach it.
She turns her slicing gaze my way once again.
“Why couldn’t you just let him die?” Her voice is a whisper on the slowing wind, fluttering to my ears on the returning warm balmy breeze.
“We could’ve been free.” Her words keep coming.
Louder and louder they plow into me. “Do you know what he did to me? He deserved to be torn apart by fucking sharks!”
Shame wraps its icy talons around my heart. She deserved retribution. I robbed her of that—of the possibility to ever sleep soundly again because he’s desecrated at the bottom of the ocean. But she doesn’t know what I know. What Sam promised, and the things that Brad told me.
Casting my gaze to Sam, the slightest shake of his head tells me to keep quiet. Despite what Brad thinks, maybe he doesn’t know absolutely everything.
Brad’s voice shatters the silence, reiterating to Chelsea the same things he told me, albeit in more heinous detail since he has the luxury of time now.
“Maximus would hunt you and Rose to the end of existence. He would chase you just for fun. Make you live in fear because of the hassle you’ve caused.
Then, when he finally cornered you, caught you, and brought you back to his hell hole, he’d torture you both.
He’d enjoy bringing your sister to the edge of death while you watch.
Only to haul her away, before you know if she’s alive or dead.
Then, when she’s all healed up and you’re dripping rancid cum, he’ll do the same things to you while she watches.
That’s a fate worse than whatever you’ll experience if we deliver you without issue.
She...” he points to me, “knows that.” Slowly, I nod in agreement as Sam avoids everyone’s darting gaze.
“We have to show up together or all risk his wrath. In his eyes, you owe him what he paid for you,” Sam mutters, hanging his head in defeat.
Brad casts his gaze from Sam, to Chelsea, finally landing on me. “And he always gets what he’s owed.”