Page 21 of Lost Paradise

“Doukas!” I shout louder.

Silence.

Fuck.

Yet, as I take a shaky breath, push myself to my feet, and gaze around the shore with a hopeful stare.

No sign of the cocky bastard.

“He was right behind me,” Zane says, and the horrifying image of Eve and Byron going down with the plane hits my head hard.

I already lost two students. The anguish hits the bottom of my stomach.

Fuck and more fuck.

Determination blooms within myself as I suck in a breath. I refuse to let despair consume me. I might be battered and bruised, but we're not defeated. Not yet.

“Doukas!” I shout as I stagger forward. The sand clinging to my soaked clothes, a sense of urgency propels me forward. Scanning the shoreline, I search for any signs of life.

“Astro!” I hear the other two join in behind me. Determined to find the fourth survivor from our plane crash.

“I swear, he was right behind me, cursing his mouth off like he does,” Zane says, and I can hear the hopelessness in his voice.

I glance back at him, the concern and guilt stretched all over him. My heart sinks as I catch his expression, and I know Astro’s nowhere in sight. Observing him, his clothes wet, sandy, and tattered.

We’re stranded on this desolate shore.

I’m not much older than them, but I was given the task of leading them to safety so I need to put my head in the right place and keep pushing forward.

“It’s fine,” I say, grabbing his shoulder with assured confidence. “We’ll find him. Who knows? The arrogant bastard probably saw some tits and arse on some other island and made a detour.”

That gets a light chuckle from both men, and it lightens the mood, all things considered.

“Maybe we should keep searching behind that large sand dune,” Zane says, and I’m glad he’s still not deterred by our current situation.

As soon as we climb over the sand dune, the shore stretches out long and wide, and a glimmer of hope catches my eye. My heart skips a beat as I spot two figures lying motionless in the sand.

Without hesitation, we rush towards them, our steps in the deep, almost white sand quickening with renewed determination.

As we get closer, I notice it’s Eve in the white clothes she had worn earlier, and Byron is lying next to her.

“Fuck! Eve! Byron!” Zane yells as we approach them.

Byron moves as I kneel beside Eve and turn her over. Dread tightens its grip around my chest as I take in her pallid complexion and the telltale blue tinge to her lips.

“I’m okay,” he mumbles, “but I don’t think Eve is. We went deep under with the plane, and I managed to drag her to here, but the waves…” he stops talking.

With trembling hands, I check for a pulse, finding only silence beneath my fingertips.

Everyone remains still and silent in hope.

Thinking the faint pulse might actually be real, I grit my teeth and immediately begin giving her CPR with mouth-to-mouth. The rhythm of compressions drives out the fear and doubt that threaten to consume me. With each breath, I will life back into her still form, willing her heart to beat once more.

But as the seconds stretch into eternity, panic claws at the edges of my mind—she's not responding, her body limp and unyielding beneath my touch. Desperation fuels my efforts as I press on, refusing to accept defeat.

I ignore the protests of the others, their voices a distant murmur as adrenaline floods my veins. Even as despair threatens to overwhelm me, a stubborn determination takes hold—I refuse to let her slip away without a fight.

Come on, girl! Come on, Eve, luv. This isn’t your time.

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