Page 43 of The Wolf

“Hold mywhat?”

Brine rushed Red down the corridor and smashed through the nearest window before his senses left him entirely, wrapping his body around Red’s to protect her before flinging them out into the bitter, cold water awaiting them at the bottom of their fall.

Then everything went dark.

NINETEEN

SCARLET

Scarlet had always loved the sea. The raw power of it. The promise of escape—of another life beyond the waves that was as far away from her own as could be. This was why she sent refugees across the sea instead of over land, and kept finding herself returning to the pirate city even though she hated it.

But she didn’t love the sea tonight.

Tonight, the icy hooks in her flesh promised death.

Everything was a mess. Scarlet’s senses were going into overdrive, unable to comprehend what had transpired over the last five minutes. Brine had been there, in the bowels of the ship. He had stopped her dead in her tracks. He had clearly begun working for her stepmother again, if his presence on the ship was anything to go by.

Even though he had left Betraz because he vowed to never do so.

But even so, Brine had found Scarlet and he had grabbed her. Clearly he thought there was no point in her being dead and had intended to save her—even though Scarlet knew with certainty that he did not recognize her for who she really was. That one word he’d said before, the word that was wrong, bounced around inside Scarlet’s head as the cold water of the sea pounded her brain.

Mate.

What had Brine meant?

But such thoughts drifted away as Scarlet kicked and thrashed beneath the water, desperately seekingupinstead ofdownas Brine’s arms, which had previously held her tight to protect her from the fall, loosened away to nothing.

Spots of light danced over Scarlet’s eyes; her lungs were full of daggers. She needed air. She needed air or she would die.

It felt like forever had passed by the time Scarlet emerged above the crest of a wave and heaved in a breath. She swallowed a hefty mouthful of salty water, too, and coughed and spluttered until her lungs cleared out. Treading water by instinct, Scarlet looked left and right to get her bearings. Now that she was above the surface of the water, the heat from the fire overwhelming her stepmother’s ship tickled Scarlet’s skin. It was engulfed in flames. She doubted there would be anything left of the ship.

But she hadn’t lit any of the casks. Someone else had clearly beaten her to the punch.

A glimmer of movement caught Scarlet’s attention—a fin, slicing through the water in her direction. Scarlet had no more time to ponder who had set fire to the ship or why Brine was working for her stepmother again or what his intentions toward her were. She had escaped drowning, and now she had to escape the beast that intended to make her dinner.

Scarlet had never been afraid of animals—shifters and humans were plenty scary enough already—but now she was scared.

She channeled the fear and swam faster than she’d ever swum before, kicking onto the nearest sandy bay situated beside a blackened jetty just as the shape of the creature turned tail and headed back toward the ship for slower prey.

Scarlet hardly dared to breathe. She was alive, and relatively uninjured. Wiping excess water from her face, Scarlet forced herself into a sitting position and scanned the wreckage. Even the jetty that sat to her left had not escaped damage. The smoldering remains of several pieces of exploded wood had broken through its surface, splitting the wharf almost entirely in two. It was barely supporting its own weight.

So Scarlet crawled farther away from the dock, along the sand, until she spied a protective circle of large rocks just down below. She cringed when she jumped down onto them, the stones jarring the muscles of her legs straight through the soles of her boots. For though she was uninjured, her entire body felt broken, and beyond exhaustion. She needed to sleep for days—weeks, even—but knew she was still many hours from sleep, even now.

Only once she was safe from the tumbling jetty did Scarlet look out at the wreckage again. Everywhere there was carnage. Gunpowder in the air, intermingled with smoke and smog and screams and blood and iron. It was a nightmare.

Then Scarlet noticed a dark-haired figure floating in the water and her stomach bottomed out.

Brine.

How could she have forgotten about Brine already? He’d wrenched her from the ship just in time to save her life. How could she have only thought about saving herself?

Despite the fear of the finned creature probably still lurking nearby, and her aching muscles, Scarlet forced herself back into the water, slid her arms around Brine’s chest, and wrenched him out onto the shore. Once she could see him clearly, Scarlet saw that one of his legs was set at an odd angle.

Her stomach heaved but Scarlet knew what she had to do.

Steeling her nerves, she cracked it back into its rightful place, then, with Herculean strength that could only exist because of adrenaline, pulled off a piece of the damaged jetty. Ripping off part of her skirt, she built Brine a makeshift splint to help support his leg. This was all done on memory, skills that Scarlet had honed her entire life overwriting her fear of not knowing what to do. With trembling hands, Scarlet lowered her ear to Brine’s lips and listened carefully.

A puff of breath ghosted over her jaw.

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