Page 29 of A Knight’s Revenge: The Complete Series

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

I finished tying my shoes with several angry pulls on the laces. The excited chatter and laughing in the locker room around me made it clear that no one else on the team was as put out as I was with their crew assignment for tomorrow’s race.

Coach had put me in a coxless four with Harper and two of her cronies, and after the week I’d had, I was not into it. It was Friday afternoon, and we were about to begin our pre-race practice—a trial run of the course with our newly assigned crews.

“Yes, any day now we expect the negotiations to be finalized,” Harper prattled on from the other side of the locker room, her huddle of adoring fans getting ready around her.

She held out her hand to admire her naked finger as if there was a giant diamond there.

“I could be engaged before the beginning of next semester!”

I smothered the possessive beast that tried her rear her head inside of me over that bitch touching one of my boys—because they weren’t mine and hadn’t been for a long time.

“Hey, trash,” Harper called as the rest of the team began to file out of the locker room. “Move your ass. You better not slow us down.”

I ignored her, forcing myself to my feet. I pulled on my long-sleeved crew shirt because it was cold as shit outside, and then I took my place in line, marching down to the dock like I was on my way to the gallows .

The expansive dock was abuzz with activity.

Staff from the athletic department were readying the area for the influx of visiting teams that would arrive tomorrow, and members of the men’s team, which had held their practice earlier in the afternoon, were milling about as they cheered in the last of the crews running their time trial of the three-mile race.

Bennett’s team of eight pulled hard across the finish line, their coxswain announcing through his bullhorn that they’d beat their fastest time on this course.

If they could replicate that tomorrow, they’d have a great shot at beating the team from New Jersey that was currently ranked first in the nation.

I watched as they all celebrated together—a huge accomplishment after months of preparation—and the big beaming smile that bloomed across Bennett’s face hit me like a punch to the gut.

I hadn’t seen him smile like that —so bright and genuine—since we were little kids. I’d thought the last seven years had stomped that kind of happiness right out of him.

Harper dropped the oar she’d been about to load into our boat to clap and cheer, waving at Bennett like a loon.

“Jansen, get your crew hands on now,” Coach Janet barked as she stalked past us on her way back up to her office to finish planning for the big event. “I expect this to be our fastest four.”

With that, we loaded into our shell, each of us manning our oar and preparing to start strong when it was our turn to head out.

“Let’s do this, ladies,” Harper yelled from her position at the stern.

“Keep up, Southside, and don’t touch me,” Bettina Gomez spat at me, apparently unhappy about getting stuck in middle crew with the freshman who had poverty germs she was afraid to catch.

We moved into position out on the water. The racecourse, already marked by colorful buoys, would take us down the west fork of the Obsidian River and out into the wide open water to the south of the City for about a mile, and then we’d loop around and head back.

We would be one of the last of the day to take our practice run. The afternoon sun had already begun to sink in the sky, the clouds of the early December day doing little to help warm us up as we floated on the water, waiting for the other crews to clear out ahead of us.

“You all know what to do,” Harper said to the team, giving me a smug little smile .

Well, that set off a tiny alarm bell in my brain, but I had no time to linger on it because she immediately began to call us to the ready.

“All four, sit ready to row,” Harper barked. “Row!”

And then we were off, all of us pulling at our oars in synchrony and with everything we had.

We pulled away from the dock and out onto the open water.

I zoned out, focusing on my form and my breathing as Harper steered us south.

After several hard minutes, the Academy had faded into the distance, and the ornate skyscrapers of the City proper had come into view.

The wind whipped at us, blowing across our bow from the west while we continued to drive south, away from the City’s shores.

“Full pressure!” Harper shouted at us, commanding us to row all out as we headed for the buoy that would mark our turnaround.

We were making excellent time, and for about sixty seconds, I decided to give Janet credit for throwing me into this boat full of terrible girls who loathed me, because it was definitely shaping up to be a winning combination for tomorrow.

“Spinning!” Harper barked a minute later as we pulled past the final buoy, the City now at least a mile off in the distance.

I adjusted my strokes, expecting to begin the turn, but I realized instantly that the rest of the crew continued to go full steam ahead as Harper steered us straight past the buoy and further down river.

“What the fuck!” I shouted, whipping around to glare at her. “I know you didn’t just miss that turn!”

She stuck her lower lip out at me, feigning a confused look. “Oh, did I?”

Shit.

I watched with great irritation as the few other crews that were near us on the course made the turn and began their return north and back to the Academy.

Harper was deliberately fucking up our pre-race run with the full cooperation of the rest of my teammates, and I knew there was likely only one reason she’d want to give up being prepared to win tomorrow and all the glory that came with it.

She’d give up that little bit of glory if she could return to the Academy docks, bragging to her friends—and the Heirs—that she’d finally gotten one over on the Southside trash.

I jammed my oar into the water, trying desperately to drag the boat down, and while that slowed us, it wasn’t going to get me back to the Academy.

“Okay, that’s enough!” Harper shouted to the others. I watched as they released their oars, and I heard her do the same behind me. “It’s the end of the line for you, gutter slut.”

I dropped my oar and gripped the sides of the shell with everything I had, jerking my head around to glare at her. “Fuck you, Jansen. Did you forget the little video clip I still have in my possession?”

She scoffed. “I’m not afraid of anything you think you can do to me, skank. It was a nice try, though.”

Then she grabbed at my right arm while Bettina and the other traitorous bitch in the boat climbed into my space to try to dislodge my other arm.

I kicked and screamed. I called them every dirty name under the sun.

I managed to punch Bettina in the nose and elbow Harper hard enough in the ribs that she fell back into her seat.

But we were in a tiny fucking rowing shell that gave me no room to maneuver to fight, and there were three of them and one of me.

They finally managed to dislodge me after a minute of me screaming and clawing at them like a rabid wildcat, and then they shoved me overboard and into the dark, cold water of the Obsidian River.

I hit the water hard, and the icy shock of the river knocked the wind right out of me. I kicked back to the surface, sucking in huge, shaky breaths as my head popped out of the water.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Later, bitch!” Harper cackled at me as the three of them began to row away. “Better start swimming! Can’t blackmail me if you’re dead!”

I coughed and sputtered, using every ounce of energy I had to just keep fucking breathing as I treaded water. There was no use trying to paddle after them—even with a lopsided crew they were going to be long gone in a matter of minutes.

“Fuck,” I croaked. “ Fuck .”

Not again .

I spun in a frantic circle, trying to figure out where exactly I was.

The waning daylight and the cloudy skies made my visibility shit.

Knowing the rough mileage of how far we’d gone on the racecourse, I could only guess that where I was currently floating—treading water and slowly freezing to death—put me about as far from Bruce’s boathouse as from the Academy.

Trying to get to either place would mean swimming about a mile, most of it in the dark.

My heart started to pound, my vision narrowing, the sounds of the choppy water sloshing around me fading as my ears started to ring.

Shit, shit, shit.

Just fucking swim, Jolie!

Through the fog, I tried to assess the situation: I was a strong swimmer and could swim a mile in half an hour on a good day. I also knew the temperature of the river was around fifty degrees this time of year, which meant I had to be out of here in an hour or I was well and truly fucked.

I surged forward, kicking and flailing, and I decided on the fly that following the race markers floating in the water back to the Academy was the safest bet as I was losing daylight.

My arms were so heavy, my fingers already going numb, and I didn’t know how long I’d be able to feel my feet. I started kicking, focusing on the rhythm of my legs, and then I swam as hard as I could, sucking in rapid, harsh breaths that burned my throat.

I will not die out here in this fucking river.

I will make it home.

I will see Max again.

I will see Dom and Laura again.

I will tear down this God-forsaken City in the name of Mom and Dad.

I will wrap my hands around Harper Jansen’s delicate little neck and watch as the life leaves her eyes.

Mom.

Dad.

Kick, stroke, breathe.

Kick, stroke, breathe.

Follow the buoys, Jolie.

Get home.

I felt dizzy. I hoped I was still going in the right direction.

I was so cold.

Kick, stroke, breathe.

On and on .

And on.

I swam forever.

It was really getting dark now.

I could see lights. I was right next to the buoys. That was good.

I flexed my feet that were now bare since I’d sent my shoes to the bottom of the river a long time ago, desperately trying to keep feeling in them.

It was so dark. I was so cold.

I see boats.

I don’t want to die. Not yet.

I was getting closer. I had to be. I was still near the buoys. I could see the dock.

Kick, stroke, breathe.

There was no one left out here. Practice was long since over. No one came looking for me.

There! I was by the dock. I just had to grab it and hold on, then I could rest.

I reached out, but I missed. Shit, where was I?

A big hand surged into the water, grasping my numb, outstretched arm. I was hauled upward, my soaking-wet trembling body flopped onto the dock, and then suddenly I was lifted into strong arms.

“Fuck. Shit. Shit. Hang on, Joanna. Just hang on.”

The world was spinning around me, and I sucked in desperate, dragging breaths, willing my heart to stop pounding so hard.

And I was so fucking cold.

I tucked my face into the neck of the man who’d pulled me from the river as he ran with me in his arms, his familiar scent wrapping around me, and I gripped him tighter as I let out a pitiful little whine.

“ Bennett .”