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“Paddle,” Jost says, swinging a long stick up for me to see.

I eye it apprehensively. “You want me to do what with that?”

Jost swings it in a small circle, dipping the flat end of it and then raising it back up for a split second before dipping it through the air once more. “I’ll call beats from behind. Right and left. If we’re going to get across this current, we’ll need to time things well.”

Behind him the water smashes hard against the rocks, each wave unpredictable. How are we supposed to get across that?

“We have four paddles,” Jost says. “Ad and Dante will each take a side in the front, and we’ll take the rear once we’ve got you over the surf.”

“And me?” Valery asks, her voice lacking the miffed tone she usually takes when she’s left out.

“You sit in the middle and look pretty,” Erik says.

She gives him a scathing look, but lets him help her into the center of the raft.

“What if we go over?” I ask. The wind has picked up and it bites against my face.

“If you go over, we can’t help you,” Jost says. “Once we’re out there, you’re gone. This current is fast.”

I find myself looking for a bridge or a boat or something that isn’t going to result in my drowning, but I know we don’t have time. Since the tide is still high, Dante and I wade in a few feet behind the raft. A wave crashes down across my ankles and I’m surprised at its force. I can’t imagine how we’ll ever get past the surf.

Erik’s arm slides around my waist, taking me by surprise. He steadies me as I climb into the raft and hands me a paddle.

I must look nervous because he leans down to my ear. “Dip it in when he says right. As soon as we get past the big waves, I’ll be there behind you.”

I nod, which makes my ear brush against his lips.

Jost and Erik push the raft hard against the tide and we catch a large wave. For a moment Jost’s head disappears below the surface, and a scream rises in my throat but he reappears, pushing us harder. I don’t like this, especially when the raft catches a wave and we ride up, threatening to tip over. My nerves twist with each surge of water, but the brothers get us past them. Once the rolling tidal waves are behind us, they both hoist themselves over the side and onto the raft. They have to be freezing, even in their suits, but they set to paddling immediately.

The current tries to push us west, to the middle of the ocean and away from the island, but we beat on against it. I dip my paddle in unison with Jost’s orders, although the wind catches his voice and carries off many of the commands. At a distance the waves seem small, but as they crest closer, my heart pounds. I concentrate on timing my paddle strokes to control the helpless panic threatening to break over me with each new swell.

The prison is in sight, towering on the horizon. It stretches across the island, demanding my total focus. All of the answers lie there.

A wave seizes us, and I miss the beat. The force of the ocean knocks the paddle from my hands, and without thinking I reach out for it. I barely have time to register the panic and take a final breath before I go under.

The water is black and cold, and it pushes me with ancient force. My arms stroke against the pressure, but it pushes me farther down until my muscles are on fire. Slowly the burning dissipates and I relax, letting the water take me down, down, down. I open my mouth and let it flow into me until I am the ocean itself. But when the last of the air seeps from my body, I gulp against the pressure until my lungs stop trying and everything goes black.

THIRTY-SEVEN

GLASS SPLINTERS THROUGH MY BODY, the ice-cold water bursting like shards into my skin. And the darkness—a void that presses me into nothing. I’m dead or very close to dead.

Cormac is going to win.

And then life rushes in at me and ebbs quickly out. Bam! My eyelids flutter. I see blue, then black. Bam! And the water gurgles from my throat. Bam! I suck at the air. I hack against the water, and my chest blazes.

“Adelice!”

I want to respond. I want to respond.

“Ad, I won’t let you go. Stay with me.” Erik’s cry is more urgent and his lips are on mine, like a kiss that pumps into my chest, breathing into me.

Lifesaving.

Life changing.

I feel heavy, locked to the rocky shoreline. I want to roll over and drain into the ground, but I can’t find the strength. I’m so exhausted. Erik is next to me. His arm is around me, but he doesn’t move.

My body can’t respond. For the first time in weeks, I want to cry—to pour my sorrows into a puddle of mistakes beneath me. I let my tears come then. Tears for the life I lost in Arras. Memories overcome me. My parents dancing in the kitchen, my sister giggling over the daily gossip, Enora fussing about my outfit. Running, running, running with no need, because I wanted to. Now I can’t stop running long enough to catch my breath, and the whole world seems murky in the strange shadow of Alcatraz.

I struggle to my feet, my muscles protesting the movement. Immediately I regret standing. Not only does it hurt, but also, it’s cold. My suit flaps at the waist, and I realize Erik must have undone it to save me. I stare down at him. He isn’t moving and the shaking starts, rolling through me as powerfully as the waves that snatched me from the raft.

The cold makes the tremors of my body more violent, and I realize my clothing is soaked. I drop back onto the ground as quietly as I can and maneuver into Erik’s arms.

“You okay?” he murmurs, his eyes still shut.

“I think so.” But as I speak, my teeth chatter, the chill curling into my fingers and into my core.

Erik snaps to and stares at me, his eyes wide with concern. Then a moment later he starts unbuttoning my wet jacket.

“What are you doing?” I demand, trying to find the strength to pull away.

“Stop fighting me,” he says as he strips off my jacket and starts on my shirt.

“Erik,” I begin, but the shuddering stops my tongue from forming words.

He doesn’t speak, just tugs my shirt off. I’m too cold and too tired to feel self-conscious or awkward. And then he starts stripping himself.

“Erik!” It’s more of a shriek than a name.

Erik wraps his arms around me, drawing me closer until I’m cocooned in the heat of his body. My skin wakes and warms to his, and we stare at each other until I feel heat rising everywhere.

“I thought I lost you,” he murmurs.

“You didn’t,” I say.

“Adelice, I—”

“I know,” I stop him.

His lips are on mine, full but gentle, and I feel liberated by his kiss. The want of it. The need of it. We crush against each other. I explore every bit of his mouth—the subtle bow in his top lip, the softness of his bottom lip, where the two crease. When we pull apart, he’s breathless and wide-eyed, and I see myself, equally excited, reflected back in his irises.

After a few awkward pants, I laugh, and his mouth splits into a wide grin.

“We have horrible timing,” I say.

“No,” he says, showering me with dozens of tiny kisses. “Better late than never.”

He hovers over me, and I know we have to go. We have to find the others.

“We’ll have our time, Ad,” he promises me.

I reach up and brush his hair behind his ears, noticing that my fingers still tremble even though I’m no longer cold. I want to believe him.