Page 122 of Rescuing Ally: Part 2
THIRTY-NINE
Safe Harbor
ALLY
Carter immediately swingsour boat around, bringing us alongside the damaged vessel. Water pours through multiple tears in their hull, the pumps clearly losing the battle.
“Transfer now.” Ethan already moves Rebel toward our RIB.
What follows is a desperate scramble as we try to transfer six people from a sinking boat to ours—already crowded with eight. The RIBs knock together in the swells, making the transfers treacherous. Jeb nearly falls between the boats before Rigel catches his vest.
Jenna comes across next, then Mia. Ethan passes Rebel carefully to Carter and Blake, who lower her into our craft. Walt leaps across last as his boat settles deeper into the water.
A massive wave hits us broadside. The boats slam together violently. Blake, positioned at the edge helping Walt, pitches backward into the churning sea.
“Man overboard!” Carter shouts.
Before anyone reacts, Gabe dives.
For a heartbeat, time fractures. One second he’s there—solid, alive, mine—and the next, he’s gone again. A blur of movement swallowed by black water.
No.
My breath catches, lungs refusing to believe. Last time I saw him disappear, it was into flames. Into silence. Into death.
“Gabe!” I lunge toward the side. Rigel holds me back.
Eternal seconds pass. I scan the water, desperate for any sign. Please, not again. Not after getting them back.
Gabe breaks the surface first—violent, gasping, a dark shape erupting from the black water like something torn from the deep. He spins, scanning. Eyes locked. Focused. Terrifying in his precision.
Then—there. A ripple. A glint of gear.
He dives back under without hesitation.
Seconds stretch. My heart stops.
Then he hauls Blake up—fist gripped in the shoulder rig of his tactical vest, dragging him like dead weight. Blake sputters, coughing seawater, eyes barely conscious. His arm hangs limp, probably dislocated.
But Gabe doesn’t slow.
He swims hard, one arm towing Blake, the other carving through water. No wasted motion. No hesitation. Just raw, unrelenting will.
I scramble to the edge of the boat, reaching for them, my voice raw from screaming. “Here! Gabe—here!”
His eyes lock on mine.
And suddenly I can breathe again.
Carter maneuvers our overloaded RIB around. Every hand reaches out as we haul the soaking men aboard. Gabe collapses on the deck, coughing up seawater, his injured leg bleeding freely now.
I clutch his shoulders, dragging him up onto the slick deck. Water pours off him. Blood too. He coughs once, eyes finding mine through the chaos.
I press my forehead to his, fingers trembling as they dig into his shoulders. Relief crashes so hard it’s nearly rage.
“You idiot,” I whisper against his skin. “You could’ve drowned.”
“Couldn’t lose another one.” His eyes meet mine, water streaming from his hair.
