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And I’d just blown my cover for nothing.
“What is the meaning of this?” Captain Orlov boomed.
A silence more deafening than artillery fire fell over the ship as every crew member turned toward the stage and saluted their leader.
I couldn’t see him through the crush of sailors surrounding me, but I knew that at any moment, Orlov would descend from his pedestal and push through the crowd, haul me off to a cell, let all the officers on the ship take turns beating and torturing me, and then send whatever was left of me back to my father, whose punishment would make the Kletka look like summer camp.
I should have been terrified, but I was too busy counting the seconds in my head to care.
Seven.
A black silhouette, small and quick, darted away from the pile of rubble, and I knew that it had to be the runner. They were still alive.
“He’s an Irish spy, Captain.”
“It’s true, sir.”
Six.
The beam of light followed the survivor effortlessly as they approached a vehicle parked next to the rubble.
Don’t do it. You’ll never get away in that. You’ll just become a bigger target.
“He assaulted two artillery gunners, sir.”
“He put a gun to my head, Captain.”
Five.
The survivor stopped running and stood perfectly still, staring at the van.
No. No, no, no. Don’t surrender. It’ll be so much worse. Fuck.
“He screamed at us in English, sir.”
“He sounded just like one of them.”
Four.
Run! Hide somewhere that’ll mask your body heat. Go!
My heart slammed against the bars of its permanent prison as I scanned the coastline in vain. There was nowhere to hide from a heatseeking drone. Nowhere except …
My gaze dropped to the moonlit waves crashing against the rocks below.
Three.
My entire awareness shrank to the size of that spotlight on top of the cliff. The ship, the sea, the smoke-filled sky—it all faded away, darkening and flickering until I felt as though I were looking up at that light from the bottom of a deep, murky lake. I swam toward it in my mind—watched it expand as I grew closer—and when I finally broke through the surface, I was no longer in Howth.
I was standing in a lake, in a forest, staring up at an oak tree …
And into the eyes of a girl perched on its lowest branch.
The sight of her took my breath away. She was clutching a rope swing and wearing nothing but her bra and knickers. Soft copper waves cascaded around her body like a veil, and when her big, terrified eyes landed on me, something inside of me cracked open, allowing a need that I had long ago buried to claw its way out of my rotten, putrid soul.
I didn’t just need her. I needed to protect her. I needed to get her down from there. I needed her in the water, in my arms, immediately and forever.
Standing to my full height, I lifted my hands, but a tightness in my throat prevented me from speaking. I couldn’t force more than a single word through the blockage. A single word to convey my inexplicable longing, my fear, my desperation … my love.
