CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
SYLVIE
The impact is jarring. The physical burden mimics the emotional transition in striking clarity.
Weightless and free. Fight or flight. Noise and wind and bright golden rays that are blinding and cozy and battering at once.
A hammering heart and a soul left behind.
Then silence and darkness and a cold that pierces my marrow.
My skin itches, the nicks and cuts stinging from the seawater.
Everything is muted. Bubbles. Pressure. The shove to go deeper.
It feels familiar in a way I can’t explain, like this is where I was meant to be, to let go. If he’s gone, what waits for me on the surface?
I can’t rise to that world.
For a split second, I allow myself to sink into the abyss of the pain I know too well. My muscles droop. My lungs burn. My throat practically closes on the sob I can’t release. Every cell of my being soaks in the endlessness of salt and surrender.
I shake the thought from my head. I have my backpack. The drive. Rena needs that. And I can climb back to Cash. I’ll get to him.
Why did he throw me? We were together.
“Love you, Sly. I’ll always be your way.” He was saying goodbye and promising to be my way through the metaphorical flames, to save me like he couldn’t manage for his mom in his nightmare.
And how will he pull that off from the afterlife? If he’s alive, I’ll kill him for not jumping with us.
What if he didn’t survive? I can’t …
And so the circle goes. Round and round as I bob in the depths, welcoming a cocoon of chilling finality. Fish and coral and my sodden defeat.
Hands grip me beneath my arms, dragging me toward the light. It takes a beat for me to choose to help, but I remember that many rescuers drown, trying to save a victim. So, I kick.
The bubbles around us create buoyancy that nudges me upward too. And in a blink, we breach the surface. It’s nearly as jarring as entry was. Stark and blinding. As oxygen fills my lungs with an alarming gasp, I’m walloped with conflicting sensations.
Relief and regret.
I heave several breaths, and Jax stares at me before he shields his eyes from the sun and glances at where we jumped.
“He shouldn’t have done that,” I squeak out, swimming toward shore. “We need to get back to him. He’s alone.”
He dives below, popping up in front of me to block my route, urgency swirling in his hazels.
“He’s not alone. We have to go.” When he notes the tears welling in my eyes, he mirrors my regret.
“The people shooting—it’s you they’re after.
They’ll find us.” He slicks his hair back, the pale blue blending with sky and sea, but his resolve is evident.
“Take a breath. We need to swim to the other side of that rock formation.”
He doesn’t wait for me to respond. He prods my back until I comply and swim beneath the water toward the tall rocks, jutting high into the air almost two hundred yards from us. My bones ache with every stroke.
We emerge out of sight from the island, and I rest against the scraggy veneer of our hideout. Both of us pant for breath, but the exertion has nothing on the loss. The sun sears into my retinas, so I cover my face and fall apart. And he lets me.
For several minutes, I weep and shake and try to make sense of what comes next as wave after wave slams against us.
He finally lifts my chin, an unspoken plea scrawled all over his face. “The rescue boat isn’t far from here. I have to get you to the train.”
The drop. The plan. The call.
This is the prison cell.
“I don’t want to go on without him.” A wail that is barely human leaves me, thunder quaking in my chest. “Please don’t ask me to. I can’t.”
Where does this fall in the advice that my father gave me? Did I want too much?
Greed equals ruin.
Time is fleeting. Freedom is intangible. Prestige has no place when I’m drifting in the Mediterranean Sea. And family?
“Look at me,” Jax demands, and the agony of this entire situation has him appearing boyish and dominant at once. “I won’t promise you that he’s okay. But he’s got the absolute best people up there with him.”
I shake my head, hearing the logic but still feeling lost. The absence of the chatter from the comm hits me then. I fumble with my ear and clothing, but can’t find the earpiece or the mic.
“Mine didn’t make it either. Too much pressure when we entered the water.” He expels a ragged breath, considering something. “I’ll get you answers as soon as I can. But … this is what he wanted.”
I study him, wondering what he means until he fills me in.
“For you to be safe.” He stares out at the nearly white horizon before adding, “For your family to be safe. For Rena and her family to be safe.” He drags his hand down his face. “For this to be finished.”
Cash’s tenacious mandate from the day he fucked the insecurities out of me in his closet rams into me with the rushing waters. “Do we give up when things are hard?”
“We fight,” I answered then, so I turn to Jax and bob my head with the same response.
My waterproof backpack worked overtime today.
Everything survived. Unfortunately, my personal cell is in my suitcase, so all I have is a burner that both E and Peter Fairfax have the number to.
Calling Cash isn’t an option, just in case there are prying eyes.
It wouldn’t make much sense for me to be contacting him if I’m fleeing to complete the job for E.
Jax only had Axel’s number memorized, but he’s reluctant to use it for the same reason. Axel is undoubtedly with Cash by now.
Instead, I send a message to the encrypted chat.
Me: We’re headed for the train. Please update on how everyone is.
Several minutes later, an ambiguous response comes through.
Ty: We have things contained, and we’ll update soon. Carry on as planned.
“Is this one of those situations where they don’t want to deliver the unthinkable over texts, so they’ll keep things vague and make us sweat it out?”
Jax shrugs, looking more worn than I’ve ever seen him. “I’d rather not know right now.”
Because no matter what horrid reality awaits us, we still have to finish this.
We make it to shore of the mainland and take an Uber to the depot in a daze. I’m surprised when the train is waiting for us because we’re late. But Jax isn’t.
We board, and the first thing that sticks out isn’t that it’s a luxury train with velvet and gold accents and grand chandeliers.
It’s that we’re the only passengers. Not just in this car.
In all of them, which is something I discover after I make a dash through several—dining, passenger, movie, scenic.
“Where are all the people?” I ask Jax as we start moving.
“Cash bought it … well, for the night. He thought he’d be with you, of course, so he”—the break he takes is less like his typical pause and more of a tormented redirection—“wanted to be sure you were safe.”
He bought the train.
It wasn’t just for safety, though I’m sure that was part of it because the last leg of this journey is still harrowing. But it was also because of the FaceTime conversation we had, back when I was still calling him a friend and I lived in New York. He always remembers everything.
As I settle into a plush velvet seat in front of a curtain-adorned floor-to-ceiling window, showcasing gorgeous coastal views, my clothes still wet from exploring those waters, I let myself replay that call.
He was so beautiful. It pissed me off that he had such relentless swagger when I was trying so hard to resist him.
“Before you answered, I pictured you on a train.”
I kept my tone unaffected, even though flutters were erupting in my stomach. “So sorry to disappoint you. Why a train?”
“Nothing about seeing you could ever be disappointing, Sly, but trains have a certain mystique. They’re a great place to make memories. Nostalgic and … intimate.”
“Oh, yeah? Have you made a lot of memories on trains?”
I remember wishing I hadn’t asked that, worried that he’d offer a spicy anecdote, but he was too smooth to fumble that way.
“None. Yet. But I can envision … clearly … making some with you, which is probably why I had that glimpse of you answering from one.”
I wish I had let myself believe in him sooner, that I’d realized how genuine he was. I hope he knows that I believe in him now.
I’m not sure how much time passes with the blur of trees and sea and unsettled desires, but soon, there are plains and vineyards.
Quaint villages hugged by vast mountains.
The scents of mahogany and brass polish awaken my senses.
Jax sets a cup of coffee with cream, sugar, and a stirrer stick on the table before me.
I thank him and fix it, ready to try the encrypted chat again, but my phone rings with another call I’ve been waiting for.
Jax takes a seat across from me, anxious to be part of this.
With a dip of my chin to him, I answer. “Hello?”
“You were working an angle all this time?” Peter begins, his voice as poised and unaffected as always.
I consider my response before landing on a starting point. “Not back when I was with Danny.”
He hums, and there’s the faintest tinge of bitterness to it. “Just since you were connected to the Noires then?”
“They’re not involved.” I sip my coffee, letting the warmth slide down my throat with placid encouragement. “They were just my way in.”
“So, collateral damage?” he snarls. “That must strike a chord.”
It’s unclear what he means by that, so I don’t say anything. But I play the words collateral damage over in my mind, wondering if he means that in general or if he knows what happened to Cash. I can barely breathe.
“I’m sorry,” he finally amends. “I know you, so I know you feel bad about Cash, even though you were using him.” He stalls there, and still, I don’t speak. “Where are you now, Sylvie?”
It takes every ounce of strength I possess to move past his presumption about me feeling bad about Cash, but the fact that I didn’t stay behind for Cash only reinforces my claim to have merely been using them.