Page 53

53

OLEG

There’s a special place in hell for the men that survive while their loved ones die.

The first time I learned that lesson, I was eighteen, lying flat on the charred deck in front of a flaming yacht, knowing that somewhere in the recesses of that vessel, my sister and girlfriend were burning.

The ocean was a bitch then.

The ocean is a bitch now.

And today, she’s hungry.

Debris floats around me like broken dreams as I cut through the churning water. My vintage boat is now nothing but a skeletal frame, bobbing around in the water aimlessly.

I’ve had this boat since before Elise and I got together. Oriana and I sailed it countless times as teenagers. I learned to sail on this boat. The last meal I had with my father was on this boat, back when she went by a different name.

And yet, despite the numerous lives I lived on it, it’s striking to me how little I care.

The only thing that takes up space in my head is Sutton.

Sutton and my baby.

I’m wading through a mental minefield that could destroy me if I let it. But Sutton needs me to stay focused. Sutton needs me to be strong.

I try to push back the old memories that threaten to sink me. I ignore how my old scars are blazing with heat, as though they’re on fire all over again. I tell myself that this explosion is not like the last one.

But I can’t trust that until I see her.

My lungs burn as I dive into the ocean again and again until I feel as though I might collapse. The currents are strong enough to give me some resistance.

But I swallow the burn and keep diving.

I have to find her.

I have to find them…

And then—finally—after the fifth dive, I hear something: her sweet voice carried over to me by the wind.

It sounds like she’s calling for me.

I spin around and dive again. This time, I spot her legs, flailing wildly against the currents. Half-drowned and exhausted, but she’s still fighting.

“Oleg!” she cries before her head disappears under a swell of water.

“Sutton!” But my voice is drowned out by the scream of the wind.

I throw myself back into the water and swim towards her as fast as I can. When I come back up again for air, she’s mere feet away.

“Oleg,” she calls again. Her voice is the single sweetest fucking sound I’ve ever heard in my life.

I reach her in three strokes, pulling her against me as though I have the power to fly her out of the watery graves we find ourselves in.

“I’m here,” I assure her. “I’m here, baby.”

She’s shivering, hair plastered against her face, teeth chattering without pause. “O-Oleg,” she keeps repeating as though my name holds power.

It seems she still doesn’t understand: She is my power.

“I-I can’t swim anymore,” she sighs. “I’m t-t-too t-tired.”

“Three more strokes, princess,” I promise her. “Three more strokes and you won’t have to swim any longer.”

She nods slowly and I guide her past the debris, to the largest, most solid piece of floating hull I can find.

“Come on. Up you get.”

I have to push with all my might to get her up onto the waterlogged piece of metal that looks like it might have belonged to the boat’s stern. The moment she’s up there, I push the little island out from underneath the boat’s carcass.

My body is aching by the time we’ve put some distance between us and the smoking remains of our boat. I could close my eyes and sleep for hours.

But all I have to do is look at Sutton to get the boost of strength and resolve that I need.

The only thing that matters to me right now is keeping her alive.

“O-Oleg,” she whispers, her face resting on her hands. “What happened? Is it the Martineks?”

“It’s very likely.”

She shudders. “Well, they failed. We’re not dead.”

“No, we certainly aren’t. It’s going to be okay. I’ve got you. This is not the end of our story, Sutton Palmer.”

She clutches my hand, but her fingers are weak. They can barely keep a firm grip. “You’re my hero, Oleg Pavlov.”

For the first time in my life, I feel like one.