Page 61 of Wicked Sins

But there’s a shape Idorecognize.

Sylvester moves through the water like a shark, leaving V-shaped ripples in his wake. And, just like a shark locked to its target, he makes a beeline for someone climbing out of the water on the other side of the dam.

It only takes a glimpse of that pale leg before I know who’s trying to escape the dam wall. And her name is already on my tongue when Sylvester catches up with her and drags her back into the water.

My chest closes.

Candy’s name withers on my tongue.

Icy water snaps around me like a leaden sheet, stealing my breath and making me gasp when I break the surface. I absently kick off my shoes and drag off my shirt so I can swim faster.

Both of them are under the water.

All I can think about is that bottle of alcohol. How much of it is left?

If any.

Fuck.

I reach the spot where they went under just as Sylvester’s head breaks the surface.

“Where is she?” I yell, flicking wet hair from my eyes with a twist of my neck as I scan the inky water for signs of movement. “Where is she!”

“I took care of her for you, bro. Not gonna be your problem anymore.” Then Sylvester starts laughing.

The stench of whiskey hits me, and I’m not even that close to him.

I never thought anyone would dare break a cardinal rule like ‘no alcohol’ in a place like this. But Sylvester has nothing to lose.

I catch a breath and dive. Opening my eyes is useless—there’s nothing to see, and no light to see it with if there was. Bubbles stream from my lips as I let out a soundless yell of frustration and claw myself back to the surface.

Noise pours over me, and part of that is something I recognize intrinsically.

Screams.

I swing around and start forward before my mind’s fully caught up to my body’s instinctual motion. What’s important is Candy’s body bobbing motionless on the black surface of this godforsaken dam. Motionless while, all around her, there’s sudden frantic activity.

Not toward, but away.

Fucking cunts are all so terrified they’ll get into shit for this, they won’t even check to see if she’s still breathing—

Because she’s not, because she’s dead, that’s why she’s floating, not swimming, moron, and they know it, and they’re pissing themselves

—my darling.

I fumble in the wet, in the dark, before grabbing her arm. Her hair plasters itself over the back of my hand.

Everything’s moving so slowly, so peacefully, it’s like the universe has decided to send one final fuck you my way before it all ends.

My heart’s going to explode. The cold has seeped into my bones. My jaw locks, which is fortunate—if it hadn’t, my teeth would be clicking together like the reaper tapping out the Hemp Fandango on his piano.

“Help me!” I yell, swinging around as I drag Candy against me. “Sylvester, you fucking cunt, help me!”

His laughter trails off. Suddenly, the only sound is the splashing of choppy water. The slap as it hits the cement walls around us. My heart pounding a thousand times a second.

“Help me get her out.” This time, my voice is low. Steady.

Sylvester swims over. “I’s jus’ kidding around,” he slurs. When he lays his hands on Candy, he fumbles her. Her head splashes back into the water.

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