Page 26 of Wallflower

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

“What I’d like is to not drown.”

“If we show up without them, we’re dead. And they’ll be hunted until they are. Or vice versa.”

Brad turns my body, hands reaching down to sever the tape from my wrists. His legs smack into mine beneath the surface as he uses my buoyancy to keep afloat while laying his weight into my binding. Another wave crashes into us, jostling our floating bodies. Sharp pain rips through my hand, shooting up my arm. “Ahhh! What the fuck?!” I half-scream.

“Shhh!” he hisses.

“Did you just fucking cut me? In the fucking ocean!” I growl, turning my sights over my shoulder to him.

“What?” he genuinely asks, briefly catching my gaze. Brad grabs hold of my wrists beneath the water, pulling them apart and tearing through the last of the tape.

Twisting back to him, I raise my hands. Not allowing myself a moment to bask in the freedom, the tension unwinding itself from my shoulders. Blood streams down my wet arm, leaking from a deep cut marring the heel of my hand up to the wrist.

“Swim,” he breathes, fear seeping into his eyes as they dart between the wound and my face. “Sam’s closer now. Swim.”

Without hesitation, I cast my sights around, spotting that yellow bobbing boat, and taking off toward it with all the energy I have left.

Ifall face-first onto the floor of the raft, wet hair plastered across my vision. My weight causes water to pool around my body, and I inch like a worm to escape it. I didn’t just free-fall from a ship, gagged, with my hands bound behind my back into the ocean, only to drown in a few measly inches of salt water.

I try to wiggle my body upright, but the increasingly rough waters knock into the boat, sending me off balance and splashing back to the floor of the raft.

With his fists clenched tightly around the rope lining the inflatable rim, Sam hauls himself out of the water, very ungracefully smacking down next to me. Before even allowing himself a minute to catch his breath, he’s back up, scouringthe line where the ocean meets the sky. “Where are you?” he whisper-growls. “Where the fuck are you?” He pushes the dark dripping hair off his brow, slicking it back as he scans the area again.

I grunt a scream to get his attention, barely catching it. “Fuck, Chelsea. Sorry.” He’s not at all gentle as he reefs me upright, plopping me down onto my ass. “Cross your legs, it will help,” he offers, and I follow his instruction.

Once steady, I too use my 20/20 vision to sweep the churning waters. I watch the rising sun’s morning light diminish as dark clouds roll in, turning the sky an ominous shade of grey. As the boat rises on the crest of a wave, the bright fluorescent orange of a life jacket snags my eye. She’s so far away, but she’s alive, floating next to Brad. My stomach drops like a boulder as I watch them, face to face, not swimming for us.

Can they not see us?

Kicking my leg out, I bang it into Sam’s. He spins to face me, and I jut my chin in the direction I last saw them. Whipping his head in that direction, a heavy sigh of relief escapes him.

Maybe he really does like my sister…

“They’re coming,” he says, sliding the backpack off and pulling out an oar, extending the telescopic handle until it clicks. Sam starts to direct us through the water, moving the oar from one side to the other to prevent us from spinning in place.

Each inch gained feels like two more lost as he battles against the wind and waves. Slowly, we make up ground. Rose comes into view, freely swimming on her own with Brad tailing close behind.

Lightning cracks the sky as it unleashes a torrent of rain down upon us. Storms move hard and fast in this area, and I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather not be when it peaks. Deafening thunder booms above, and I watch Sam’s movements turn frenzied.

Rain pelts the raft, the loud sound drowning out my cry for attention. I want to help, to get off this floating fucking nightmare. Sam sweeps his hand across his face, flinging off the rain, only for it to be replaced immediately.

I shift my legs, working them beneath me to somewhat scoot to Sam and demand he free me so I can help.

Rose and Brad are only a small distance away when a fin slices through the water. It’s there for a moment before it’s gone again, so brief I almost think I imagined it. But when a second one breaks the choppy surface, coming up on the opposite side of them, my shrill scream of fright is smothered by my gag.

Sam already sees what I do. He’s gone deathly pale.

“Faster!” he bellows.

The raft gets closer with every rotation of my arms, every fluttering kick of my feet. My body’s tiring, slowing down, as I fight to press forward. Skimming up through the waters next to me, Brad lessens his pace. “We’re almost there, red. Keep going.”

“I just need a minute.”

“We don’t have a minute,” he shouts, spittle flying from his lips as his eyes dart behind me. “Go!”

Okay, fuck. I just wanted a minute to catch my breath and calm my racing heart. But apparently that’s too much to ask as the storm rages harder, waves increasing in size.