Chapter 16
Ella
I felt the ice crack beneath my feet before my mind could even register the sound. In that split second, as the surface began to give way, only one thought consumed me: Nora.
“Jake!” I shrieked with overwhelming terror. I used my last rational thought to throw my daughter towards him, away from me, and the breaking ice. I saw her small body slide across the frozen surface, and relief flooded through me, knowing she was safe, even as I felt myself plunging downward.
The shock of the freezing water stole my breath away instantly. One moment I was standing; the next, I was enveloped in liquid darkness, so cold it burned. My clothes became leaden weights, dragging me deeper.
I kicked desperately, fighting to break the surface, but in the darkness, I couldn’t find the hole I’d fallen through. My fingers scraped against the solid ceiling, frantically searching for the opening. My lungs screamed for air, pressure building in my chest until I thought it would explode.
Nora. I had to get back to her. The thought pulsed through me, giving me strength for one more attempt to find the surface.
But my body began to betray me, and my mind became strangely calm.
I saw her face—her smile when she lost her first tooth, the concentrated frown on her brow when she colored inside the lines, her peaceful expression when she slept.
I saw Jake, the way he looked at me in the kitchen that night, as if I were something precious, he was afraid to touch.
My lungs gave out. I couldn’t hold my breath any longer. The water rushed in, burning a path down my throat as my body convulsed in protest. Darkness crowded the edges of my vision.
I’m sorry, Nora. I’m so sorry.
The pain receded. I felt almost peaceful as consciousness began to slip away. The cold didn’t hurt anymore. Nothing did.
Then—something happened. I could see myself.
I could see Jake plunging into the water, him grabbing my hair and yanking hard.
I was vaguely aware of movement, of being pulled upward.
But it seemed distant, as if it were happening to someone else.
The world had gone gray and muffled, like being wrapped in cotton.
I floated through the ice, above the scene, watching as Declan dragged my body onto the cold surface.
Strange how peaceful it felt up here, hovering, while below me, such violence unfolded.
Jake heaved himself out of the water and knelt over my still body, his face contorted, while Declan barked out orders and started chest compressions.
I observed with clinical detachment as he began —one, two, three—the force of them rocking my lifeless body.
From this vantage point, I could see Rory holding Nora back on the riverbank, her small face crumpled in terror as she screamed for me.
I wanted to go to her so badly, to tell her that I was fine, that everything was going to be just fine, but something held me back.
My attention was back on Jake, who tilted my head back, pinched my nose, and sealed his mouth over mine.
My chest rose with his breath, then fell.
Nothing. Declan returned to compressions, shouting words that rippled upward to where I hovered.
“Breathe, damn it! Nora needs you. We need you. Come back to us!”
His words were a reminder that she was still waiting on the riverbank.
I felt a curious tug at the mention of my daughter’s name, like an invisible cord connecting me to the shell below.
But the tether seemed so thin, so easy to sever.
Up here, there was warmth and weightlessness. Down there waited pain and cold.
Jake’s voice cracked as he bent to my face again. “Ella, please. Fight. You’re the strongest woman I know. Fight.”
I drifted closer, studying the tears freezing on his lashes, the raw desperation in his movements. Something about his brokenness called to me. The cord between my consciousness and body pulled tighter, yanking me downward. At first, I resisted, then surrendered.
Suddenly, I was slammed back into crushing pain as my lungs convulsed and river water erupted from my mouth.
I was rolled onto my side, coughing violently as water poured from my mouth and nose. The pain came rushing back—burning lungs, aching chest, the terrible, bone-deep cold that made every cell in my body scream.
My eyes fluttered open briefly. Jake’s face swam above me, pale and terrified, his hair plastered to his forehead with water. He had gone in after me; I wasn’t just imagining it in my dreamlike state.
“N-Nora,” I managed to rasp.
“She’s safe,” his voice assured me. “On the riverbank with Rory.”
Relief washed through me, stronger than the pain. Nora was safe. Nothing else mattered.
Darkness crept in again, but different this time—not the frightening emptiness of before, but a heavy blanket of exhaustion. I tried to fight it, to stay with them, but my body had other ideas.
As consciousness slipped away, I heard Jake’s voice, soft and urgent, saying something about falling and strength and us. I wanted to respond, to reach for him, but the darkness claimed me before I could.
Sounds came and went—a roaring engine, voices speaking in urgent tones, the beeping of machines. Occasionally, words would pierce through the fog.
“Core temperature 92.3.” … “Start warm saline.” … “Moderate hypothermia.”
I floated in and out of consciousness, never quite surfacing completely. Sometimes I felt hands on me, clinical and efficient—other times, a warm pressure around my fingers that felt like someone holding my hand.
And then, more clearly than anything else, a small voice called to me. “Wake up, Mommy. Please wake up.”
Nora. My baby needed me.
I fought against the heavy blanket of unconsciousness with renewed determination. Slowly, painfully, I clawed my way back to the surface. My eyelids felt weighted with lead, but I forced them open.
I winced at the bright lights as the ceiling came into focus, then I heard a beeping monitor. Hospital. I was in a hospital.
I tried to turn my head and immediately regretted it as pain shot through my neck and shoulders. A small groan escaped my lips.
“Mom?” Nora’s face appeared above me, her eyes wide and red-rimmed from crying. “She’s awake! Jake, she’s awake!”
“Hey, baby,” I managed, my throat felt raw, as if I’d swallowed broken glass. Trying to lift my hand to touch her face, my arm felt like it was made of lead, and that’s when I noticed an IV tube snaking from my wrist to a bag hanging beside the bed.
“Don’t try to move too much,” a deep voice cautioned, and Jake stepped into view. He looked worse than Nora—pale and drawn, with dark circles under his eyes, his hair disheveled. “You’re going to be pretty weak.”
Memories crashed back—the ice cracking beneath me, the freezing water closing over my head, the desperate struggle to find the surface. My dreamlike state, then just darkness. “How long?” I croaked.
“About twelve hours,” Jake said, moving closer to the bed. “It’s morning now.”
I glanced around, taking in the hospital room, the monitoring equipment, and the warming blankets wrapped around me. “What happened? After I... after the ice...”
Jake and Nora exchanged a glance, some unspoken communication passing between them. It struck me how comfortable they seemed with each other, how naturally they moved in each other’s space.
“Jake saved you,” Nora said solemnly, her small hand finding mine on the blanket. “He jumped in the water and pulled you out. Then Uncle Declan started pushing on your chest to make you breathe again while Jake breathed into your mouth.”
I looked at Jake, really looked at him. His clothes were different—hospital scrubs instead of his usual flannel and jeans. There was a raw intensity in his eyes that I’d never seen before.
“You went in after me,” I whispered.
He shrugged, as if diving into freezing water was nothing. “Couldn’t very well leave you down there.”
A nurse appeared, smiling at me when she saw that I was awake. “Well, look who’s decided to join us! How are you feeling, Ella?”
“Like I’ve been hit by a truck,” I admitted.
She nodded sympathetically as she checked my vitals. “That’s to be expected after what you’ve been through. Your temperature is almost back to normal, which is excellent news. The doctor will want to examine you now that you’re awake.”
As she bustled about, adjusting my IV and making notes in a chart, I looked beyond her to the doorway, where another figure stood watching. Mikhail.
His eyes met mine across the room. He stood motionless in the doorway, hands in his pockets, something unreadable in his expression. For a moment, I was transported back to his yacht in Cyprus when I’d planted the explosives.
Jake followed my gaze, his shoulders tensing when he spotted Mikhail. The air in the room shifted it felt charged, like it does before a storm.
“Nora, honey,” the nurse said, “why don’t we go get some hot chocolate while the doctor checks on your mom? I bet you’re hungry.
Nora looked hesitant, her fingers tightening around mine. “I want to stay with Mom.”
“It’s okay, sweetie,” I assured her, my voice still rough. “I’m not going anywhere. And Jake will stay with me, won’t you?”
Jake nodded, his eyes never leaving Mikhail. “I’ll be right here.”
Nora considered this, then leaned forward to kiss my cheek. “Promise you won’t go to sleep again?”
My heart constricted at the fear in her voice. “I promise. Just a quick check-up, and then you can come right back.”
She allowed the nurse to lead her out, casting worried glances over her shoulder. Mikhail stepped aside to let them pass, then moved into the room.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, his accent thicker than I remembered, as if stress had brought it on.
“Like I drowned,” I replied, trying to push myself up straighter in the bed. Jake immediately moved to help me, his hands gentle as he adjusted the pillows behind my back.
“You did drown,” Mikhail said bluntly. “Technically, at least. Your heart stopped.”
I felt a chill that had nothing to do with my body temperature. I’d died, actually died. The realization hit me like a physical blow, and I found myself reaching for Jake’s hand without thinking.
“What happened after?” I asked, looking between them. “With Kozlov and his men?”
“They were… taken care of,” Mikhail said, his voice hardening. “We made sure of it. The police believe it was a home invasion gone wrong.”
Jake’s hand tightened around mine. “Caleb’s recovering too. Bullet wound to the thigh, but nothing serious.”
I nodded. “Now what? What about your dad?”
Mikhail took a step closer to the bed. “Now we have a window of opportunity. My father thinks his men have failed, but he doesn’t know I was there. He doesn’t know I’m alive.”
“How long before he figures it out?” Jake asked.
“Days, maybe a week.” Mikhail’s eyes fixed on our joined hands, something flickering in his expression before he masked it. “We need to move quickly. Once Ella is discharged, we need to get her and Nora somewhere safe while I deliver the evidence against my father.”
I shook my head, wincing at the pain the movement caused. “I’m not running anymore, Mikhail. I can’t do that to Nora.”
“It won’t be forever,” he insisted. “Just until my father is in custody. A few weeks at most.”
“And then what?” I asked the question that had been building since I’d learned he was alive. “What happens after he’s in jail?”
The room fell silent. Jake’s thumb moved in small circles against my palm, a gesture so subtle I doubt he was even aware of it. Mikhail looked between us, understanding dawning in his eyes.
“That,” he said finally, “is a conversation for when you’re stronger.”
Before I could argue, a doctor entered—the same one who had treated me in the emergency room, according to Jake’s whispered explanation. He conducted a thorough examination, asking me questions about pain levels and memory, shining lights in my eyes, and listening to my lungs.
“Remarkably good, considering what you’ve been through,” he concluded. “We’ll want to keep you another night for observation, but barring any complications, you should be able to go home tomorrow.”
Home. The word seemed to hang in the air, suddenly loaded with uncertainty. Which home? My little house with the security system Jake had installed. The lodge at Wolf Creek? Some safe house Mikhail had arranged? Or something else entirely that none of us had considered yet?
The doctor left, and an uncomfortable silence descended on the room. Jake was the first to break it.
“I should check on Nora,” he said, reluctantly releasing my hand. “Make sure she’s actually eating something, not just drinking hot chocolate.”
I nodded, grateful for his thoughtfulness. “Thank you. For everything.”
His eyes softened as they met mine. “Always.”
As he left, Mikhail moved to the chair Jake had vacated. Up close, I could see the toll the past days had taken on him—new lines around his eyes, a tension in his jaw that hadn’t been there before.
“You’re in love with him,” he said matter-of-factly.
It was not a question; it was an accusation.