Page 43 of When You're Close

"Stay there! And don't try anything!" Finn screamed. His eyes darted back to the mooring, to the vast, raging expanse of water where Amelia had vanished. The storm was relentless, but Finn's fear of loss was unwavering. He had saved Alistair, but now, he had another life to save, one far more important to him.

Finn's powerful strokes propelled the boat towards the mooring, each pull bolstered by his sheer force of will. But the storm was equally resolute, a maddened creature that seemed to thrive on thwarting his every move. The wind, shifting and unpredictable, spiraled and pushed against him with a force that would have overwhelmed a lesser man.

Hitting the mooring with a jolt, Finn leaped onto the land, not waiting to secure the boat. "Amelia!" he called, the word almost torn from his mouth by the ferocity of the gale. Again and again, he shouted her name, fear gripping his heart with icy fingers.

Then, he spotted a clue that confirmed his worst fear.

That flickering beacon of hope – the light from Amelia's flashlight – washed ashore, caught in a web of reeds and murky grass. The storm's chaos threatened to engulf his every thought. Fear painted images in his mind of Amelia struggling, her fingers reaching out just below the dark surface of the loch. Green water sludge filled her lungs.

Driven by adrenaline and desperation, Finn plunged into the water, each step heavier than the last as the green algae clung to him like chains. He sunk down underneath and opened his eyes, but all he could see was a suffocating darkness. He reached up and breathed at the surface, then down again he plunged, flailing with his arms, hoping to somehow grab hold of Amelia and pulling her upward.

It was hopeless. He surfaced again and waded further into the water, reaching up to his neck.

Just when despair seemed about to drown him, he heard it—a faint shout over the howling wind.

From the towering reeds on the shoreline, a shadowy figure emerged. "Finn!" Amelia's voice cut through the storm, a gift in the tumultuous night. As they locked eyes, relief and fear merged, and Finn made his way towards the water's edge. But his arms were heavy, and the exertion had now drained him of all his strength.

Amelia rushed into the water, and beneath a shroud-like sky on an island haunted by death, life persevered: Amelia grabbed hold of Finn's failing body and pulled him to the water's edge and onto land.

Fin reached up, and they embraced, wrapped in a blanket of rain and icy winds.

Their wet clothes clung together as Finn muttered into Amelia's hair, "Thank God, Amelia. I thought...I thought I'd lost you."

The words seemed to be snatched away by the wind, Amelia acting as though she hadn't heard what was said, but the intensity of the moment communicated all that needed to be spoken. They broke their embrace, and Amelia helped Finn to his feet as he caught his breath. After a moment, they both turned to the boat where Alistair lay by the broken mooring and fallen tree, a picture of pure terror.

With the storm still in full rage, Amelia's voice was firm and full of authority. "We've got to get out of this!" she yelled, looking around as if searching for an escape route.

Finn nodded and moved slowly and wearily to the boat, pulling Alistair to his feet. The man's eyes darted around, wild with paranoia. "Where are you taking me?" he choked out, his voice barely audible over the deafening roar of the storm.

Gripping Alistair's arm tightly, Finn leaned in, "To the place you're trying to protect." He looked at Amelia and then pointed to the closest safe haven – the eerie shadow of Huldra House, glaring at them from the distant cliffs.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

Finn felt the cold, wet oak against his hands. The ornate doors of Huldra House loomed large as he and Amelia pushed through, their clothes dripping water, leaving dark stains on the ancient stone floor. The once-pristine grandeur of the entrance hall now bore witness to the chaos outside and the charged atmosphere within.

Finn dragged Alistair Logan with him. Finn felt exhausted, his muscles aching. But he had to keep his prisoner under control. There was no telling how dangerous he might be.

Alistair, gasping for breath, suddenly became acutely aware of the confines of the mansion. His eyes darted around in panic, sensing a trap. "Let go of me!" he shouted, voice echoing in the vast expanse of the hall. In a burst of adrenaline-driven desperation, he tried to make a break for it, but Finn was too quick. With a swift movement, he tripped Alistair, then offered him a hand to get back up.

Amelia, hair stuck to her face and her usual composed demeanor now giving way to a steely edge, stepped closer to Alistair, making sure he met her gaze. "Running is not going to help your case, Alistair," she said, her voice cold and sharp. "Now is the time for honesty. Tell us about being a 'Watcher.'"

Alistair's eyes widened at the mention of the term. He took a moment to catch his breath, his chest heaving. "How do you...?" he stammered, realization dawning on his face. "I don't have to explain myself to you."

Finn's already frayed patience snapped, he was tired of it all. With a speed that belied his exhausted state, he lunged at Alistair, grabbing him by the collar and pushing him hard against the wall. The impact sent a tremor through Alistair and the wall, and his yelp resonated through the house.

"This isn't a game, Alistair!" Finn growled, face inches from the other man's. "I pulled you from that damned loch. We both nearly lost our lives out there because of you. This ends tonight."

Amelia, though apparently startled by Finn's sudden aggression, didn't intervene. Finn's anger came from a place of desperation, and sometimes, it was that raw emotion that got answers.

"I want to hear everything," Finn hissed, eyes locked onto Alistair's. "Every damn thing you know about this island, the Watchers, and the deaths."

For what felt like an eternity to Finn, Alistair stared back, defiance and fear waging a battle in his eyes. But he remained silent, leaving the room filled with the echoes of their confrontation.

Finn's temper flared, he could feel it bubbling up inside of himself like a volcano, and every ounce of restraint he possessed seemed to vanish in that moment. His fist tightened, muscles tensed, arm drawing back. He seemed poised to strike Alistair, but before he could act, Amelia's voice pierced the tension. "Finn, no!" she cried, a note of genuine panic in her tone.

Before anyone could fully register the gravity of the situation, a resounding voice thundered through the room, halting all in their tracks. "What is the meaning of this?!" The authoritative tone belonged to none other than Lady Ferguson. Clad in a flowing dark dress, she descended the staircase, her presence casting an undeniable shadow over the room.

Taking in the scene, Lady Ferguson's gaze was cold and assessing, her dark eyes fixing on Finn. "I would hope that you had more restraint, Special Agent Wright."

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