Page 93 of Heritage of Fire

A dinghy takes off from the yacht and moves toward us. Gunshots hit the water behind us as we swim, and Nik’s grip on my hand tightens, pulling me along.

A pulsing throb blooms behind my eyes, and I have to blink away the gritty blur. I’m operating on sheer will right now, but my legs are practically lead. If I live through this, I willneverbe this weak again.

A motor approaches, the dinghy going past us and swinging to block our view of the cargo ship. Two guards aim at the flaming vessel and open fire to defend us. The wakes buoy Nik and me up and down.

Someone snags my wrist, and I hiss at the contact. Chills prickle over my skin as I’m hauled out of the water and dropped into the small raft. Water drips over me as Nik is pulled in next to me.

Taking steady breaths is hard; I press a hand to my chest, trying to inhale deeply. My legs buckle as I try to stand and I fall back, but a man’s arm grabs me before I collapse completely. Forest green eyes meet mine, and I recognize his reddish-brown hair.

“You—pictures—the files,” I pant out.

“Why don’tyesit down, love.” His mouth moves, but with the up and down bob through the water, the words barely register.

In a matter of minutes, we’re at the yacht. It glistens on the water, opulent and glossy. Nik lifts me out of the dinghy, and I grip the handles of the ladder leading up the side of the massive boat. When my feet are back on solid decking, I look around. Several men in tactical wetsuits surround us, many dripping wet as if they only just climbed aboard as well.

Eyes growing heavy, I stumble forward as all the adrenaline from moments ago crashes out of my system. I reach to the back of my head, probing a lump that fits in the palm of my hand.

“Luna?” Nik’s voice sounds like it’s underwater. The shaking in my limbs causes unsteadiness on my feet, and I try to take a step to—somewhere?—but I collapse.

Chapter 35

Nik

“How is she?” Kate asks, handing me a cup of tea from the hospital cafeteria. After we docked, a private ambulance hurried us to the hospital, and Luna was rushed into labs and scans. Luka and Kate came by an hour ago, and Luka pulled some strings to get Luna a secure wing. She’s finally settled in a room and on pain medicine.

“They confirmed she was injected with a psychedelic. That, along with her concussion and adrenaline spike during our escape, made her body—” My voice cracks. Explaining this is torture. I wish I could take her pain away. “Apparently, she woke during one of the tests and was answering basic questions. Her scans show no brain injury. She’s resting right now, and the doctors have encouraged me to let her sleep.”

Luka and Kate keep me company until nightfall. After they leave to go home, I stumble tiredly into Luna’s room, eyes immediately roaming over her sleeping form hooked up to IVs and monitors. Luka mentioned that Kieran came through with some additional information about EV; after the fireboats made it to the container ship, it was reportedly found empty.

The crew made it off.

Right now, though, I can’t think about anything except for Luna and her healing.

I snag the chair from the corner and drag it across the floor. Stiff blue vinyl cushions cover the seat, and there are no arms on the chair making itthemost uncomfortable piece of furniture I’veeverput my ass on.

Leaning over the bed, I lay my forearms next to Luna and watch the steady breaths she takes. Her eyelids flutter every so often, and I find myself holding out hope that she’ll wake up.

She doesn’t.

Her torn-up hand lies at her side. I reach for it, turning it over and writing all the things I want to say to her on her upturned palm.

My eyes flick to where her ring should be, and then to where mine is—still on. I’ve never taken it off. So much for my best laid plans to rid myself of it after our wedding night. Maybe my subconscious mind knew how much I actually need it—needher.

I place a chaste kiss to her knuckles and lower my head to my hands to wait.

Gentle scratches on my head make me moan out load. As I wake up fully, I realize there’s a hand playing with my hair. I bolt upright to see Luna smiling at me.

“Hey there,” she says.

Her olive skin looks ashen and part of her head is covered by a bandage, but her eyes are bright and vibrant. I almost wilt with relief at the sound of her voice.

“Hey there, how are you feeling?” I ask, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. I love the flush that always climbs up her neck and stains her cheeks when I do.

“Embarrassed,” she says.

I squint at her. “Embarrassed? Why?”

“I passed out from a short distance swim.”

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