Page 154 of Cara
Dominic takes a step towards us. “Okay, you’re done?—”
Fueled by adrenaline and a desperation no one here could ever fathom, Xavier channels every ounce of strength within himself, hoisting us over the railing in one swift, fluid motion.
Sophie
OhGod.
Oh myGod.
I break free from the frigid rush of water, unable to scream past the water that’s filling my mouth, choking my words. The moment we plunged into the water from above, the river's strength completely seized me. I lost her. I lost Isabella. I sank so fast into the depths, struggling to emerge.
But I hear her now. She’s coughing. She’s close.
I stretch until I have her, fighting with every ounce of my strength against the relentless waves, my gaze trapped on the building we were just thrown from, cast into chaos.
“I’ve got you,” I cry out, forcing my legs to kick. If I don’t, we won’t make it. The nearest solid ground is a dock, swaying at the water’s edge, now a considerable distance away due to the swift current. “Keep your head up, Izzy. Up.”
Xavier.
His emerald eyes are etched in my mind, a lasting image of the staunch resolve he granted me… only when he was sure I had no time to change his mind. Did he act on a whim when he saw the water? Or did the blueprint of this club, tucked away in his parlor, unveil the only escape from this place? Did he leave that house already knowing what he was going to do?
It all flashes before me.
His legs giving out from under him, collapsing against the marble.
The way he kissed me in our bedroom.
His dead silence as I spoke of my final moments, saying my goodbyes.
I don’t need an hour.
If anyone is to blame, it’s me.
While I was pouring out my heart, he was resolvinghis.
When a flash of light flickers at the edge of the deck above, my arms ease their rowing. The beam appears and vanishes all in a fraction of a blink—just like my sanity.
A gunshot.
That… was agunshot.
A visceral shock grips me, an icy terror that freezes every muscle in my body. A few seconds stretch into eternity before that fear bursts forth from my lips in frantic screams. Hoarse pleadings to the wind and waves. I imagined it. None of this is real. Wake me up.
The heavy weight of his child in my arms—only for her do I keep my head above water. For her, I can’t stop moving. But I’m tired. I’m so tired.
So scared.
So ready to accept that this is it. This is all that’s left. My world just went dark, a total blackout where all light, all joy, all reason disappeared in a split second. He wasn’t supposed to do this. It wassupposedto beme.
This wasmysacrifice to make.
I was supposed to protecthim.
Tears flow like the currents around me, spilling down my face as I push through the waves, struggling, unable to stop the heaving that accompanies full-on hysterics.
No. One word, and the mind becomes a frightening place. An endless void of denial. No, it didn’t happen. You imagined it, Sophie. It wasn’t a gunshot.
He’s alive. Hehastobe.
