My husband buried me in the sand, shaping me into a mermaid. Then he turned his back and walked away-off to comfort his stepsister, who had stubbed her foot. I watched his figure retreating, helpless, as the tide crept higher. Despair swallowed me whole. In the very last second before I lost consciousness, a single thought flashed through my mind.
My husband buried me in the sand, shaping me into a mermaid.
Then he turned his back and walked away-off to comfort his stepsister, who had stubbed her foot.
I watched his figure retreating, helpless, as the tide crept higher. Despair swallowed me whole.
In the very last second before I lost consciousness, a single thought flashed through my mind.
1
I thought I was going to die.
When the icy ocean finally closed over my head and crushed the last breath from my lungs, the darkness felt almost like relief.
Death was better than lying there, half-buried, feeling sand crabs gnaw at my skin.
I don't know how long it lasted. A violent spasm of coughing wrenched me back. Brine burned my throat.
I survived.
Someone had dug me out.
Through half-opened eyes I saw a man in a black tactical jacket, his back broad and silent, methodically working to perform CPR on me.
Around him stood a dozen other men in the same gear, big and silent, forming a wall between me and the world.
"Mr. Fletcher," one of them said respectfully, "Miss Rowe is awake."
The man, Rowell Fletcher, stopped, then slowly turned.
It was a face weathered by wind and frost, with eyes sharp as a hawk's.
"Mila, I told you long ago, that Josh from the Morrison family isn't the man for you," he said.
I stared at him-the man who had once ruled the underworld, the man I had saved from a massacre. My lips trembled, but no sound came out.
Too much screaming, too much seawater-my voice was gone.
The salt had seared the crab bites on my face and neck until they burned like fire.
Rowell shrugged off his jacket, wrapped it around me, and lifted me into his arms.
"I promised your father I'd keep you safe for life. You clipped your own wings for that man, hid your edge. I let you. But now he's trying to kill you. I won't stand by anymore."
Step by step he carried me toward a black helicopter waiting on the sand.
"From today on, Mila, you're no longer Josh Morrison's wife. You're my heir-the name that will make all of the Eastern Realm tremble."
I leaned against his chest as the helicopter lifted off, the island that had nearly swallowed me whole shrinking beneath us.
I closed my eyes.
Josh, we would meet again.
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