Chapter 2
Chapter two
Aiden
Stinging pain from the back of my shoulders to my legs slaps me awake in an instant. I open my eyes and gasp on reflex, just in time to witness a wave devour and shove me underwater.
Instinct snaps my eyes and mouth closed as I’m forced down.
The pain builds to a burning ache. Through the insistent throbbing, there are two sharp reminders of the bullets I’d taken in my shoulder and side.
Then the three bruising strikes to my chest that had knocked me out rather than killed me, thanks to the metal plate I’d formed.
I’d just finished off the last of the agents when I saw Charles appear on the headland. When I saw his arm raise, gun pointed at her, I reacted on instinct.
Using my whip sword, I’d smoothed it in an instant and stabbed it into the ground, vaulting myself over Charles and sending whatever remaining metal I had left to protect my chest.
I wasn’t thinking about how I was going to stop him or what to do next.
I wasn’t thinking about death.
All that mattered was her.
Because I will always stand between her and danger.
I open my eyes, giving myself a second to adjust to the salt water, but it’s a pointless effort. It’s too dark to see much of anything from however deep I’ve sunk, all the shades of blue blurring in every direction.
I’m being dragged down, down, down.
I’m too heavy.
All the metal that saved my life a minute ago is now my downfall.
I need to dump it all.
I can’t breathe.
My chest burns and tightens. That last gasp of air I’d stolen is almost gone, and my lungs are fit to burst.
Something sways in front of my face and I expel the last of my air before I can see what it is. It shakes and wobbles, then continues to float in place.
Is it…an air bubble?
I breathe in slowly.
Air.
Logic urges me to draw a small breath, but my body takes over in survival mode. I wheeze, gathering air back into my lungs in a wasteful but necessary catch-up, then take another deep breath.
The air bubble shrinks closer to my face.
However Jackson managed to do this, I need to make it count.
Drawing all the metal to each of my hands, I let it fall free until there’s nothing left. No whip sword. No metal jewelry. No metal plate full of bullets.
But I don’t stop there.
I wince at the excruciating pain in my back and side as I unbutton my jacket, then methodically strip it from each arm. I don’t squander air and energy trying to rush it off. Next is my shirt, shoes, and pants, lightening my weight as much as possible before I begin my struggle to the surface.
I’m compelled to take another breath, then watch the tiny bubble of hope dwindle further.
I’m far from the surface, but being pulled down gave me a hint of direction, so I stroke and kick as fast as I can. There’s no light around me. No sight or sound to tell me if I’m getting close.
Just endless sea.