Chapter Twenty-Seven #3
With a broken sound, she slammed her open hand against the solid wood. Air rushed too quickly into her lungs, and the trembling that had lived in her chest since dawn finally snapped loose.
A sob tore free before she could bite it back.
He let you go because he loves you.
She bent forward, forehead pressed to the mast, arms wrapped around herself as if she could hold her cracking heart together by force. But she couldn’t. The pain cleaved her chest in two. It felt like drowning, but without the mercy of sinking.
Another sob clawed its way up her throat. With a ragged breath, she pushed from the mast and stumbled back toward the rail, needing the illusion of distance, of watching the world fall away behind her. Her hands found the polished wood again, gripping until her knuckles went numb.
The Siren glided forward, the docks slipping away like pages in a book.
Then, she saw him.
A lone figure on the wharf, apart from the dwindling crowd, standing motionless at the very edge of the landing they currently passed.
Her lungs seized. Lucien. He stood with hands shoved deep in his coat pockets, shoulders rigid with the effort of stillness, staring at the dock.
A shout built in the back of her throat, only to die when his head slowly lifted.
Across the water, his eyes found hers, dark and devastated.
Her hands tightened on the rail. Only a narrow stretch of water separated her from what might have been, and what no distance would ever undo.
Behind her, Christian called instructions to the crew.
Samantha murmured something about the current.
Across the deck, her father stood with shoulders drawn back, facing the horizon as if the sea itself had absolved him.
None of it mattered.
Only that solitary figure on the shrinking pier, refusing to chase her because he believed she deserved a future he could not give.
She swallowed, breath hitching. The Siren kept her course, indifferent to the turmoil churning within her, and the space between them yawned greater with every thud of her pulse.
Her throat burned.
“Lucien…”
It was barely a sound. The wind stole it instantly.
But across the water, impossibly, she saw his lips shape one silent word.
Her name.
The voiceless declaration struck her harder than any shout could have. Her heart slammed against her ribs once, twice, and then she was moving.
She climbed the rail before thought could catch her.
“Abigail, no!” Samantha’s cry rang out behind her, but it was too late.
The wind swept at her skirts. Her shoes slipped on the polished wood. The entire world seemed to hush—just for a breath, just long enough for her to meet Lucien’s gaze one last impossible time.
And then she jumped.
Cold hit her like a stone wall. Water slammed into her ears, her nose, her mouth. She plunged deeper than she meant, light dimming, sound fading. Gritting her teeth, she clawed upward with flailing limbs and surfaced with a hoarse cry.
The current dragged at her as she choked, kicking as hard as she could. But her skirts twisted around her legs like chains, dragging her down again. No. She kicked harder, thrashing with her arms.
A heavy splashing came from beside her. Strong arms seized her beneath the arms, hauling her face above the surface.
“What in the hell are you doing?” Lucien’s voice cracked with exertion and panic, water streaming down his face as he fought to keep them afloat.
She coughed, clinging at him with both hands. “I love you.” She gasped the words between breaths and splashing water. “I can’t leave you. Won’t.”
“Christ, Abigail.” He stared at her for a stunned moment, then something fierce and unbreakable flared across his face. “I love you. I thought I could let you go. I was wrong. So damn wrong.”
His lips crushed to hers, desperate, the kiss only a heartbeat long before the river closed over their heads.
He surged upward, towing her with him, one arm locked like iron around her waist. The two of them fought the current, until rough hands seized their arms and hauled them onto the blessedly solid planks of the wharf.
They collapsed together in a tangle of limbs and sodden clothing, chests heaving.
From the Siren, Samantha cupped her hands to her mouth and shouted across the river. “You know, we would have turned around!”
Abigail laughed, the watery sound part gasp, part sob. Lucien pulled her to her feet and cupped her face with both hands, thumbs sweeping the water from her cheeks.
“Never…” His voice rasped raw. “Never do that again.”
“I would.” She leaned into his touch, breath shuddering as the pledge tumbled free. “A hundred times. A thousand. If it meant ending in your arms.”
Lucien drew her closer until their foreheads touched, his breath warm against her lips despite the cold biting at their wet skin. And in that moment—dripping, shivering, hearts hammering in frantic unison—she knew.
Without fear. Without hesitation. Without a single lingering doubt.
She had chosen her home.
And it was him.