Page 87 of Reign

“Callie!”

My terrified gaze turns to Chase. He’s wrestled out of the gag, the tie hanging around his neck like a noose. “Howard Mason! Howard Mason is your father!”

Sabine freezes mid-arc.

“Wh-wh—?” I try to respond, but I’m absorbing the winter cold, my words coming out in shivers of sound.

“Security’s bound to check the boathouse soon.” Sabine jerks her chin at Falyn. “Tip her over, and the title of princess is yours, along with Tempest Callahan as your new soulmate. You’ll be the most idolized couple on campus and beyond, sweet girl.”

Falyn reaches behind me and pulls the knot holding my wrists, then pulls my feet from the shoes.

“Don’t do this—she’s manipulating you!” I gasp, wrestling my arms free to try and grab Falyn. She ducks, and I’m too off balance to try again. “She did it to Ivy, to Emma, to her own daughter, and she’s disposed of them all. What makes you think you aren’t disposable, too? Falyn, please. Please! Don’t—”

Nothing else I want to say matters, because the last thing I see is the swing of Sabine’s knife into Chase’s chest before lake water drowns my screams.

29

Callie

Let yourself sink a little lower into the water, Callie. Then spread out your arms, your legs. That’s it. Relax…

Float.

Float up….

Eden’s wry, unhurried teachings whistle in my ears as my eyes bulge open, searching my watery grave.

Her voice comes back. There’s no time to schedule you in for a second drowning. So hold on to that boat and KICK.

My arms shoot up and swipe for the capsized scull, my knuckles knocking against the moving seat on the way back down. I only have time for a second attempt before I sink too deep, and I put all my effort, all my frantic kicks, into stretching my body and curling my hands around the wooden seat inside the scull.

Then, in one death-defying, most important push-up of my life, my face breaks through the water, but beneath the upturned boat.

Holding onto the seat pulls the scull in deeper and it slams against my head. In a desperate maneuver, I change my grip to the outer edges of the boat, my feet flailing.

I’m cold. It feels like my blood is solidifying under my skin.

This isn’t like my Thanksgiving dunk. This is so, so, so much worse.

It’s impossible to last very long in these temperatures. Yet somehow, I have to move.

Kick. Kick. KICK, Eden screams in my head.

I do.

My iced-over legs spear out and in, but I have no idea if I’m moving. I have to get out from under. I have to get to Chase.

No. I have to stay where I am until I’m sure Sabine, Falyn, and James are gone.

A trembling whimper leaves my throat, but I count to five, then ten. After that, I convince myself that dunking my head one more time—just one more time—won’t be so bad. I’ll hold my breath and come out on the other side. It’s that easy.

Eden, Ivy, Emma, please be with me.

I take a deep breath and sink.

My fingers slip against the scull, screeching against the fiberglass. I cry out underwater when I have to loosen a hand, then splash through the surface on a gasping breath that escapes my mouth in clouds.

But there can only be clouds where there’s air.

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