Chapter 4

He didn't move. Still staring at me.

Frozen.

"GARRETT!" Celeste screamed. "RUN!"

But he didn't move.

The mast groaned—a deep, splintering sound.

I didn't think.

Pushed off with my prosthetics. Launched myself at him.

Shoved him hard.

He stumbled backward into the safe zone.

I landed where he'd been standing.

The mast came down.

Crashed into the deck with a deafening boom.

Massive rigging cables whipped past me—one caught my shoulder, spinning me around.

I hit the deck hard.

My prosthetic leg—jarred loose from the impact—skittered across the tilting surface.

Rolled.

Fell over the broken railing into the ocean.

The one with the GPS tracker.

"I've got you!" Garrett was pulling me, grip iron-tight. "I've got you!"

Others rushed over to help. They hauled me up.

I collapsed on the deck.

Garrett collapsed next to me.

He was breathing hard. Staring at me.

"Why did you—" He couldn't finish the sentence.

I was still holding my eye.

"You're my brother," I said quietly.

"But I—" His voice broke. "I've been such a dick to you."

"I know."

"You could've died just now—"

"I know."

He sat up, ran his hands through his wet hair.

Then he yelled at the nearest crew member: "WHY ARE YOU ALL STANDING AROUND? GET A DOCTOR!"

He turned to me.

"And someone find her—" He gestured helplessly at my legs. "Her..."

"Prosthetic," I supplied.

"Her prosthetic! It fell in the water! Find it!"

His voice was shaking.

For the first time since I'd come home, Garrett Hartwell looked at me like I was a person.

Not a problem.

A person.

The doctor arrived. Wrapped me in blankets. Checked my vitals.

"She should go to a hospital," he said. "Hypothermia risk, and that eye needs—"

"No hospitals," I said quickly.

"Kira—" Mom started.

"Please. I just want to go home."

They helped me toward the cabin to wait while the yacht headed back to shore.

But we never made it back.

The storm came fast.

One minute, calm water. The next, black clouds and massive swells.

"EVERYONE HOLD ON!" the captain's voice crackled over the intercom.

The yacht pitched violently.

Alarms blared.

"All passengers on deck! Life vests ON!"

Chaos.

People scrambling everywhere. Celeste screaming.

"We're taking on water!" someone shouted. "Preparing to abandon ship!"

Crew members rushed around, deploying life rafts.

"Families together!" a crew member yelled. "Stay with your group!"

In the chaos, rough hands grabbed my arm.

"I'll get you to a raft, miss!"

I looked up. A crew member I didn't recognize.

Older. Scarred hands.

Something cold slid down my spine.

But the yacht lurched again, and everyone was moving, shouting.

Through the rain and spray, I saw Garrett pulling Celeste toward one of the rafts.

She was hysterical, clinging to him.

Mom and Dad rushed to help.

"Wait—" I started to call out.

But the crew member was already pushing me toward a different raft on the opposite side of the yacht.

"This one's closer! Come on!"

"My family—"

"They're boarding the main raft! We'll meet at shore! Move!"

He practically lifted me into the small emergency raft.

Two other "crew members" jumped in immediately after.

"GO GO GO!" one of them shouted.

They released the pulley. The raft dropped hard into the churning water.

Spray everywhere. The yacht's hull looming above us.

"ROW!" the first one barked.

They pulled at the oars with practiced efficiency.

Too practiced.

As we pulled away from the yacht—away from my family—one of them looked directly at me.

And smiled.

The scar across his left cheek stood out pale against his dark skin.

My stomach dropped.

"Hello again, Kira," Scar Face said quietly, his voice almost gentle under the sound of wind and waves.

The other two laughed.

I looked back toward the yacht.

Saw Garrett in the other raft, frantically scanning the water.

His mouth moving: "Kira! Kira!"

But we were already too far. The storm too loud.

"Your sister sends her regards," Scar Face said, pulling out a phone in a waterproof case.

The screen showed a text from CelesteDiamond94:

"Perfect storm. Take her now. Will say she fell overboard in the chaos. Make it look like an accident."

Below it: A transfer receipt. $100,000.

He smiled at my expression.

"She paid extra for the rush job."