Page 94 of Seduced

How did they get past Wilder and all his other guards to find him all the way down here? It didn’t matter; they had. He cast about his brains for a sliver of a hope of survival.

He found none.

“Tell us where the prince is and we’ll let you live,” the assassins said.

Ah. He had killed the last ones right after he had educated them on the futility of threatening to kill him; he would have to elucidate these new morons as well. It was so dull explaining himself to these butchers over and over again, but someone had to do it.

“How much will you give me for betraying him?” he said.

The cat-and-mouse game began, but in this instance, Alexei was more mouse than cat. His knives were useless in his hands, for the assassins now had their blades pressed both to his neck and chest. He stood there, unmoving, as they spoke, not daring to breathe lest he find himself in the water.

“If you do not deliver the prince to us,” one of the thugs hissed, “you will not survive.”

“Might as well throw me in the lake now,” Hades murmured back.

All it took was a push and he found himself in the lake.

I’ve gone and done it now.

God help me.

He had barely time to gulp in a big breath of air before the waters closed over his head.

Swallowing down his repulsion of the cold water that surrounded him, he bent down and cut off the ropes at his ankles. The water was so freezing that his left hand let go of the knife involuntarily, but he still had one knife left, and he made quick work of the ropes with that. Then he kicked madly for the surface, knowing that even if he reached it, he had little hope of staying above water afterwards.

He rose from the water with a gasp, coughing and spitting out water.

His vision was blurry, but he looked around until he saw his barge disappear into the narrow opening, the assassins making their escape with it. Both the barge and the killers were gone by the time it took to fight his way to a breath.

He was left all alone in the water.

And he was already sinking again.

“Take my hand, quick!”

Someone was screaming above his head and Alexei made a herculean effort to kick again for the surface. His head whipped around for the source of the voice, water streaming down his face, long hair plastered to his forehead and cheeks.

“Alexei!” the voice screamed.

His name.

He knew that voice. It washervoice.

“What on earth—?” Water was in his mouth and he choked on it, nearly going under again.

But he thought he saw a small, battered boat approach him shakily on the water, and he kicked some more, desperate to stay afloat. The boat came closer: it was real. On it, was Poppy, eyes wide, face white, hair flying every which way. She held an oar in one hand and was reaching out to him with the other.

The oar barely touched the surface of the water, but her hand was closer. Close enough to grab and be saved.

“Wyatt,” Alexei gasped, spitting water.

He spit blood with it as well. The assassin who threw him in the water had managed to also punch him on the mouth at the same time, possibly breaking his nose for the second time in less than two days. The pain was splitting his skull in two.

Water was in his eyes again and he lifted his chin to take a breath, but he had gone under. Something grabbed at hiscollar and dragged him to the surface. He gasped in air, floundered about.

“Take my hand,” Poppy said, sounding out of breath. It was her hand on his collar, keeping him alive.

“No,” he coughed out water, but there was still more in his lungs. He was getting weaker; it wouldn’t be long now.

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