Page 202 of Burn the Wild

“Get her.” Wyatt’s bellow rings out beside me. “I got him.”

I release Gavin and dive into the water.

Sound disappears, replaced by silence. I swim hard toward the bottom, searching.

There she is.

Reese floats limply in the murky water, her wavy hair mushrooming, hiding her face completely.

I grab her wrist and shoot us for the surface. I swim to the shore, sheltering her face against my chest so she doesn’t inhale more water.

When my feet touch solid ground, I curl my arms beneath her, lifting her from the water and rushing to the muddy bank.

I drop to my knees, turning her onto her side. Water pours from her mouth.

She’s still. So goddamn still.

“Reese,” I choke out, putting my fingers to her neck to check for a pulse. It’s thin and thready, but it’s there. I hear Reese’s lungs bubbling and struggling, but air still fills them.

Panic rises in my chest. “Breathe. Fucking breathe.”

Reese’s mouth parts slightly, her eyes fluttering as violent coughs erupt from her throat. Her chest rises, each breath a shaky shudder.

I curl her into my body, cradling her close. “That’s it,” I say, pushing tangled hair out of her face as she gulps air. “That’s my girl. That’s my good fucking girl.”

I nearly lose it when she lays those emerald eyes on me.

“You found me.” Her voice is a soft breath of sound. Sweet and sad, it slips over me.

I cup her cheek. “Never losing you. I told you that, didn’t I?”

“Mouse,” she gasps. “She’s okay.” Her smile is weak.

A shaky laugh tears out of me. “Goddamn, baby. We’re gonna have a talk about that later.”

At the sounds of a struggle, I glance back over my shoulder.

“Wyatt,” I shout as he goes under.

But I shouldn’t have worried. He pops quickly to the surface with Gavin’s collar clenched in his hands.Wyatt knocks him out cold with an uppercut to the jaw, and he sinks beneath the water.

Wyatt hesitates.

“Leave him,” I order.

That’s where he stays—rotting at the bottom of the lake. He took Reese from me. He doesn’t get another chance.

I turn my attention back to Reese.

My stomach plummets.

Blood. It streams down her arms, her fingertips. Seeps from violent, jagged wounds, staining the mud beneath us. There’s so much of it. Too much.

“Christ,” I rasp. My heart feels like it’s being ripped in half. “Christ, Birdie.”

“Sorry,” she slurs, pale and trembling. “I didn’t do it. I didn’t do it…”

My vision blurs as hot tears stream down my face. I rock her in my arms, trying to warm her body. “I know, I know, baby.”

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