Page 1 of Meet Me In The Dark

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Where was she?

Why did everything hurt?

Why was she so cold?

And why were her feet wet?

Kara forced her eyes open. Her head felt like it was being cut open by a chainsaw.

Her eyesight blurred, then focused.

She was still in the car. They all were.

And they were beginning to sink below the surface of the Pacific Ocean. Water was pouring in through the open windows and the sides of the car, pooling on the floor and drenching her feet. It started slowly, then began to pick up in velocity, and as water rushed into the car, everything came rushing back to her.

The bombing atVixen. The drive down the coastline. They’d never even reached Catalina. Sucking Micah off while Conor fingered her; fucking Luke in the backseat. Luke’s declaration that she had power over them, when she’d always been sure it was the other way around. Telling them what it would take to make her stay. Luke saying, “Sweetheart,” before they were rammed into from behind. Her men shooting at the car behind them, the people in the car behind them shooting back. Getting hit again. Their car swerving off the road. Being airborne.

Luke saying, “I love you.”

And then:

Nothing.

She’d seen videos about cars crashing in bodies of water. There was a window of thirty seconds to two minutes to get out of the car before the weight of the water caused the car to flip over, nose first, completely submerging the vehicle and its passengers underwater and making it impossible to open a door or window and swim to the surface.

Kara had no idea how much time had passed since they’d hit the water, but she knew this: they didn’t have long before they were goners.

The sun was setting. It would be dark soon.

“We need to get out of the car,” she groaned.

No one answered her.

No.

One.

Answered.

Her.

She twisted her neck—which hurt like hell—to look at her men. They were all knocked out—Micah’s head on the steering wheel, a bloody gash on the back of his head. Luke’s head back against the car seat; Conor’s sagging against his partly opened window, water spilling in on top of it. None of them moved.

“Micah?” she leaned forward to shake him, gently at first, then more urgently.

“Micah.”

Nothing.

“Luke. Conor.” Her voice cracked as she looked at the men on either side of her. “Please.”

No answer.

More water poured in.

“Damn it!”

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