The impact hit me like a sledgehammer.
One second, I was falling through the night air; the next, the ocean swallowed me whole. The cold was shocking, instantly stealing the breath from my lungs. The current churned me around like a ragdoll, disorienting me. Up. Which way is up?
I kicked wildly, my heavy boots dragging me down. I clawed at the black water, my lungs burning, until my hand broke the surface.
I gasped, sucking in a mouthful of salty air and spray. The waves were high, chopping against the jagged cliff face.
"Cassian!" I screamed, the sound swallowed by the roar of the ocean.
There was no answer.
"Cassian!"
I treaded water, spinning in a circle. The helicopter was still buzzing overhead, its spotlight sweeping the water fifty yards out. They were looking for bodies.
Then I saw him.
A dark shape, floating face down in the trough of a wave near the rocks.
"No," I choked out.
I swam. I swam harder than I had ever swum in the pool at the estate. I fought the current, my muscles screaming, until I reached him.
I grabbed the collar of his tactical vest and flipped him over.
"Cassian!"
His eyes were closed. His face was pale, illuminated by the moonlight reflecting off the foam. But he coughed—a ragged, wet sound—and water spilled from his lips.
"Elena," he groaned, his voice barely audible.
"I've got you," I promised, hooking my arm under his armpit. "Kick, Cassian! You have to kick!"
He tried, but his movements were sluggish, uncoordinated. He was dead weight.
I looked at the cliff face. The cave. Cassian had mentioned a sea cave.
I scanned the dark rock wall. There—a darker patch of shadow where the water seemed to disappear into the stone.
"Hold on," I gritted my teeth, swimming one-armed, dragging two hundred pounds of muscle and gear through the freezing Atlantic.
Every stroke was agony. My dress tangled in my legs. The drive tucked in my bra dug into my skin. But I didn't stop. I couldn't.
We washed into the mouth of the cave. The water here was calmer, shielded from the wind. My feet brushed against sand.
I dragged him up the small, rocky beach, collapsing only when we were well back into the shadows, safe from the prying eyes of the helicopter.
I fell onto my back, gasping for air, my chest heaving. We were alive.
"Cassian?" I rolled over, crawling to his side. "Cassian, talk to me."
He was lying on his back, his breathing shallow and fast.
"Did we..." he wheezed, his eyes fluttering open. "Did we make it?"
"We made it," I said, brushing the wet hair from his forehead. His skin felt clammy. Cold. Too cold.
I looked down at his body.
His tactical vest was shredded on the left side. Dark blood was oozing out, mixing with the seawater, pooling on the sand.
"You're bleeding," I whispered, panic rising in my throat.
I fumbled with the buckles of his vest, my fingers numb and shaking. I tore the velcro open and pushed the wet fabric of his shirt aside.
I covered my mouth to stifle a sob.
A bullet hole. Just below his ribs. It was bleeding sluggishly—a dark, ugly red.
"You were hit," I said, tears stinging my eyes. "When you tackled me in the woods. You took the bullet for me."
"It's... just a graze," Cassian lied through gritted teeth. He tried to sit up, but groaned and fell back, his face twisting in pain.
"It is not a graze!" I snapped, fear making me angry. "Stay down!"
"We need to... stop the bleeding," he murmured, his eyes losing focus. "Pressure."
"I know," I said. "I know."
I looked around the cave. Nothing but rock and sand. I had no first aid kit. No bandages. No phone.
I looked down at myself. The emerald green silk dress.
It was ruined anyway.
I grabbed the hem of the dress at my thigh—where the slit started—and ripped. The silk was strong, but my desperation was stronger. I tore a long strip of fabric from the skirt. Then another. I was left in a jagged mini-dress, shivering in the cold damp air, but I didn't care.
I folded the silk into a thick pad.
"This is going to hurt," I warned him.
Cassian nodded weakly. "Do it."
I pressed the silk pad directly onto the bullet wound.
Cassian cried out—a raw, animalistic sound that echoed off the cave walls. His back arched off the sand, his hand gripping my wrist so hard I thought he might break the bone.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I sobbed, leaning my entire body weight onto his wound to apply pressure. "Just breathe, Cassian. Breathe."
He slumped back, panting, sweat mixing with the seawater on his face. He didn't let go of my wrist.
"You..." he rasped, looking up at me with glassy eyes. "You shot him."
I froze.
The adrenaline of the swim had pushed it out of my mind. But now, in the quiet of the cave, the image came rushing back. The sight of my father falling. The look of shock on his face.
"I did," I whispered.
"You saved us," Cassian said. "You flanked them. You... you were perfect."
"I shot my father, Cassian," I said, my voice cracking. "I pulled the trigger on my own father."
"He isn't your father," Cassian said fiercely, fighting the pain to speak. "He is the man who killed your mother. He is the man who hunted you. You didn't shoot your father, Elena. You shot a monster."
"I missed his heart," I admitted, looking at Cassian's wound—the wound I caused because I hesitated. "If I had killed him, you wouldn't be bleeding right now."
"Hey," Cassian whispered. He released my wrist and reached up, his cold hand cupping my cheek. "Look at me."
I looked down at him. He was pale, shivering, and broken. But his eyes were clear.
"You didn't miss because you are weak," he said. "You missed because you are human. And I thank God for that. I don't want you to be like me. I don't want your soul to be black."
"My soul is fine," I said, covering his hand with mine. "Right now, I only care about keeping yours in your body."
He managed a weak, crooked smile. "Bossy."
"I learned from the best."
I adjusted my position, sitting close to him to share body heat. I kept one hand firmly pressing on his wound, the green silk rapidly turning black with blood.
"The helicopter is gone," I whispered, listening to the silence outside. "Vittorio is hurt. He'll need to regroup."
"We move at dawn," Cassian mumbled, his eyes drifting shut. "Find a phone... call the Syndicate..."
"Shh," I hushed him. "Don't talk. Save your strength."
I sat there in the dark, watching the rise and fall of his chest, counting every breath.
For fifteen years, Cassian Vance had been the mountain that shielded me from the wind. He was the invincible, terrifying force of nature that nothing could hurt.
Now, he was bleeding out on a cold beach, and I was the only thing standing between him and the darkness.
I looked at the entrance of the cave, where the moon cut a silver path across the water.
I shot the King, I thought, a cold resolve settling in my chest. And if he comes back for us... next time, I won't miss.