Page 97 of Her Wild Coast Promise

“Get in the bathtub!” I cry, my feet pounding the floorboards.

“What?”

I burst through the bathroom door and slam it shut, then scoop Cora up and lunge for the bathtub. Cora screams and I’m afraid I’ve hurt her, but there’s no time. I land on her just as an explosion rips through the house.

ChapterTwenty-Eight

CORA

The windows shatterand walls explode all around us while the bathtub vibrates like it’s going to rip from the floor. It goes dark. Debris reins down—splintered wood and glass and broken tile.

What is happening?

Beneath Seth’s body, I scream, but it’s lost to the violence happening all around us. There’s crashing and groaning, like the walls are caving in.

“Seth!” I try to get my hands around him, but he’s heavy. He’s also not moving.

I call out for help but my voice is muffled. My God, are we buried?

“Please, be okay,” I whisper, trying to wriggle my hands free, so I can feel what’s over us. Try to figure out what happened. My body hurts everywhere and my ears ring.

“Seth!” I cry out, desperate.

Is he breathing?

The moments before the explosion replay in my mind. Seth’s shout to get in the bathtub moments before he lunged for me and we went down hard inside it. I remember the terror in his voice and the fear in his eyes.

Did he get a warning this was about to happen?

Did someonecausethis? Why?

Pinned to the cold bathtub bottom and sandwiched by the debris on all sides, I strain to hear Seth’s breathing. His body landed on me, his shoulder touching my nose and his jaw against my temple. We’re confined, weighted down, his chest pinning me.

Emotion tears at my throat like claws and my eyes burn.

“Seth!” I sob. My voice sounds raw and piercing and makes my head pound. He has to wake up. He has to be okay.

I get my hands alongside Seth’s body, jostling broken tile and chunks of wood that prick my hands, filling in the gap as I shift. When I brush past his back pocket, I bump into the firm edge of his phone.

Can I get it loose and pull it closer so I can call for help?

Working my fingers up his back, my knuckles scrape past sharp bits of rubble and splintered wood. Finally, I get to the middle of Seth’s back. I give his body a firm shake. We’re so squashed that I barely move him. I creep my fingers further across where I can wrap them around his opposite side.

What if he’s not alive?

Don’t think like that.

I shake Seth again, harder this time.

Another thought hits me—if someone did this to hurt us, would they come inside, make sure?

We landed hard in the bottom of the tub, and my skull is throbbing. If Seth’s breathing, I can’t hear it. And we’re under the heavy weight of the house in pieces too tightly for me to feel his chest.

I shake him again.Please, please, please.

Something shifts against me. Is it Seth? Or is whoever wanted us dead digging us out to finish the job?

Terror pricks my skin. Do I stay still, or try to get free before they get here?

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