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Randall appeared suddenly, at the rear end of one of the upper decks. “Clear!” he shouted.

A split-second. That’s all it took. A split-second diversion, as Xander Kyrkos looked up, to assess his third — but not final — threat.

And that’s because I acted in that split second…

And everything happened at once.

I bent at the waist and shoved backwards. I did it hard. As hard as I fucking could…

And then I dropped face-first to the deck.

I heard Holden yell. Caught a glimpse of Marcus, rushing forward. I saw Randall’s shotgun snap up to his shoulder, from where it still dangled from one arm.

But behind me… I heard the sound of air, rushing from someone’s lungs.

Xander Kyrkos gasped as I shoved my ass hard into his ample stomach. It pitched him forward at first, but then he jerked quickly back.

His feet had nowhere to go — they caught on the bulkhead, tripping him up. His arms pinwheeled as he tried desperately to regain his balance. In doing so, he overcompensated… fell backward…

… and went sprawling over the railing.

“AHHHH!”

There was a scream, cut short by a horrific splash. I jumped up, whirled around, and there he was — twenty feet below us. Gasping. Floundering.

Sinking…

“HELP!”

Holden was by my side instantly, his rifle trained downward. I put my hand over it and pushed the barrel away.

“HELP ME!” Kyrkos cried, thrashing around violently. The more he struggled, the worse it was for him. “Throw me something!” he gurgled. “ANYTHING!”

He was a piss-poor swimmer to begin with. We knew that already.

But he couldn’t even tread water with only one good arm.

“HHHHEEELLL—”

He sank for a moment, and for a few seconds his whole head went under. Somehow he managed to kick himself back to the surface, at least temporarily.

My hands jerked behind me, as Marcus cut through my zip ties. I stood at the rail, rubbing my wrists. I was staring down intently now, savoring the fear. Absorbing the look of abject terror in the man’s eyes, and burning it into my brain.

“You seem to be the architect of your own suffering,” I taunted down to him loudly. “The victim of your own bad choices!”

I saw his eyes change. The went from panic and despair to the nightmare of pure hopelessness.

“A—ANYTHING YOU WANT!” he began shouting. “I’LL GIVE YOU ANYTHING! I’LL MAKE YOU RICH! ALL OF YOU! I’LL— I’LLLLL—”

His mouth was filling with water. He was running out of gas.

“JUST HELLLLLLP ME! SAVE ME!”

“Maybe you should save yourself,” I countered coldly. “After all, if a man can’t save himself…” I shrugged and smirked. “What good he?”

He went under once more, with one last, gurgling scream. I was watching Marcus as it happened. Examining the look in his own eyes, as he stared down in grim silence.

Kyrkos sank like a stone, disappearing for good. A full minute went by. Only bubbles came up.