Chapter 5

The cold punched straight through my dress and knocked the breath out of my throat.

The green bubbles cleared into dark water.

Above me, the glowing belly of the yacht looked like a flat, floating building.

Around me, the iron bars groaned as the ocean current pushed the cage sideways.

A gray shark glided past the mesh, its rough skin scraping against the yellow paint.

Breathe, I told myself. Four seconds in. Four seconds out. Don't waste the bottle.

My fingers moved instantly down my thigh, popping the rubber keeper on my dive knife.

The hem of my navy dress was tangled awkwardly around my ankles, heavy with water and restricting my legs.

I sliced the fabric upward, tearing the hem free to give my knees room to move inside the confined iron space.

I reached out, pressing my palms against the welded grid, testing the rusted latch of the door.

The latch held, but the left hinge shifted when I pushed it. If the frame bent, that hinge would be the weak point.

The speaker on the ceiling crackled, bubbles bursting against the wire.

"She hasn't pulled the rope," Kellan's voice came down from the deck.

Static hissed.

Then Reid's voice, smooth, slow, and completely calm:

"Give her another minute. She hates the dark."

"Corinne!"

For one stupid second, I thought he had changed his mind. Some part of me still recognized my husband's voice as safety.

Then he said, "Give me the town."

Behind my closed eyes, I saw a pair of red sneakers beneath my cutting table. I kept my mouth on the regulator and gave Reid nothing.

Suddenly, the cage dropped two feet with a sharp, iron-shuddering jolt.

High above on the swim platform, an alarm started to beep—a shrill, rapid pulse.

Through the speaker, the captain screamed over the noise:

"Boss! The cable is fraying on the single drum! The backup isn't attached!"

"Kill the drive!" Kellan yelled.

"The brake won't hold the weight! She's hanging on a torn line! We have to bring her up now!"

I tilted my head back.

The single steel cable holding the cage was vibrating so hard it threw off little trails of rust into the water.

One of the braided strands had snapped, curling backward like an open razor blade.

"Corinne!"

Reid's voice broke through the speaker.

"Give me the town, Corinne! Tell me the state, and we pull the lever! Stop being stubborn!"

"Reid, the baby—"

Sabine's voice pulled him away from the microphone. His voice disappeared from the channel. He had turned toward her. Even with my cage hanging from a failing cable, she could still pull his attention away.

"Mr. Varden!" the captain shrieked, sheer panic tearing through the speaker. "The cable is shearing! Pull her now or she drops!"

The channel stayed silent. I waited for Reid to answer the captain.

One second.

Two seconds.

Three seconds.

Reid stared down at the water.

"Hold it," Reid said, his voice shaking with stubborn rage. "Give her ten more seconds."

One.

Two.

Three.

The steel cable gave a high, whistling scream—like a wire fence snapping under tension.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Through the water, I saw a shower of orange sparks hit the surface above, hissing as they died in the foam.

Seven.

Eight.

Nine.

Ten.

He had heard every warning. He had used every second.

Through the ceiling speaker, Reid's voice broke into a raw, ragged scream:

"Bring her up—"

The frayed cable finally gave way.

Weightlessness tore through my stomach.

The yellow cage flipped sideways and dropped like a heavy stone into the black.

The roar of rushing water filled my ears, drowning out every thought.

The glowing square of the yacht shrank from a ceiling to a tiny, yellow postage stamp, and then vanished into absolute dark.

The bottom of the cage slammed hard into a flat shelf of ocean limestone.

The impact threw me face-first into the iron bars.

The yellow regulator was ripped from my teeth.

Salt water poured down my throat, choking me as I clawed blindly in the pitch-black.

My fingers caught the rubber hose.

I shoved the mouthpiece back between my teeth and hit the purge button with the heel of my palm.

Air hit my tongue, cold and metallic.

I scrambled onto my knees on the tilted floor, my right shoulder throbbing from the impact.

The main cage light died. A red emergency bulb flickered above my shoulder, turning the bent bars the color of old blood.

The collision had crumpled the steel frame.

I planted both feet against the lower bars and pulled.

The latch didn't move.

I tried again. Pain tore through my injured shoulder, but the frame held. The iron door was wedged deep into the bent corner, the latch jammed tight against stone.

I tapped the glass of my wrist gauge with my thumb.

The red needle on the little pony bottle was shaking right against the bottom line.

A stream of bubbles poured past my shoulder. I reached behind me and felt the cracked connection where the impact had split the valve.

The pressure needle was already falling.

At that rate, I had ninety seconds if I stayed calm.

Outside the crushed bars, a long, heavy shape drifted out of the darkness, drawn by the impact.

A shark.

It struck the bent door again.

I had only ninety seconds to save myself.