“Noah!” Nathan let out a sigh of relief. “It’s Noah and Stanton!”
Troy swam toward us closely followed by Sparta, who I now vaguely recognized by his dreadlocks.
I knew I should be happy that Troy had escaped Isaac and that Sparta was still alive, but inside I was petrified.
Impassively, I watched Nathan and Pan pull Troy and Sparta out of the water. Troy grinned at me mischievously, rubbing his hair even though he was shivering from the cold and shock was still written all over his pale face. He didn’t belong here any more than I did. Abruptly, he flopped onto one of the anchored seats and Sparta sank next to him and crouched down.
I stared at him for a moment. I now no longer believed that he was behind the attack. Maybe it was Ilias alias Rayk. Or Taurus alias Thomas Tremblay.
Remember it for your police report, little lady!
Isaac’s words skipped through my mind as his aristocratic face danced in front of me, but I pushed it away.
As if in a trance, I watched Icarus start the engine and we began to slide through the pitch-black water toward the coast. Above us, the entire sky was full of stars, the moon lying between them like a thick, yellow lantern. Nobody said a word. I kept taking deep breaths and asking myself what was wrong with me, why I didn’t feel anything. I concentrated on Nathan, who had wrapped an arm around me to warm me, but the cold didn’t reach me, nor did the touch.
I stared at the pitch-black water. There was something inside me deep beneath the shock. A buried memory that I didn’t want to see, didn’t want to feel, but which rose relentlessly into my consciousness.
There was a boat, an open speedboat like this one. A sea rescue boat or a private boat. I looked to the side and it was as if I could see this boat gliding over the water next to ours, like the trawler a few weeks ago. I blinked and time slid into one another so that yesterday, today, and tomorrow became one.
I’m sitting on Dad’s lap, wrapped in a wool blanket, wordless and without feelings, just like today. Someone starts the engine and we leave the soot-black column of smoke rising into the sky from the burned yacht behind us; the fireboats have long since stopped. Dad hugs me, and when I turn my head to him, I see his sorrow-filled face, this deep, heavy despair on his pale features, and I know that part of it is my fault. I just don’t understand it.
My fault.
I don’t dare put my arms around his neck and look out at the gray sea. My fault. This burial place on the sea. Suddenly, the paralysis falls away from me and understanding returns. I try to wriggle out of Dad’s arms, wanting to jump into the water to get Mom back. I have to get her back because it’s my fault. “Mom! Mom! Mom!” I scream her name over and over. “Mom, I’m sorry!” The men have to hold me down, but something inside me snaps shut. I scream until I lose consciousness, and when I wake up in Mount Sinai Hospital, I’ve forgotten the last three days. Retrograde amnesia.
“My fault,” I whispered, but it was drowned out by the roar of the engine. Suddenly, all my emotions were back. The fear I endured, the throbbing pain in my jaw, my lips, and cheeks, and the biting cold. It was as if there was no place on my body or in my soul that didn’t hurt, but nevertheless, I still couldn’t cry.
We stopped in knee-deep water in front of a deserted stretch of coastline and waded the last few yards to the beach. According to Nathan’s cell phone, we were on Hilton Head Island, one of the many offshore islands off the coast of South Carolina that were connected to the mainland by bridges.
Exhausted, I would have loved to fall into the dunes for a hundred-year sleep, but the men kept pushing us mercilessly with no regard for me or Sparta. Nathan said the speedboat had probably been stolen from a whale-and-dolphin-excursion operator so they wanted to get away from there as quickly as possible.
Of course, also because of Isaac. But no one had to say that out loud.
They took a path beyond the palm-lined main road and stayed in the shelter of the low-growing deciduous trees.
I stumbled after Nathan who raced ahead and wondered how long they could run from Isaac if that was even possible and what they were planning to do now. I knew that every man here had stood up for me, every man except Sparta, so I didn’t make a sound even though it was torture to put one foot in front of the other. The pounding in my jaw stretched into my skull. I kept feeling the swelling on my lip, cooling it with my ice-cold hands while I furtively glanced around and shivered from the cold.
It was the middle of the night, and now and then, we could hear laughter from one of the many beach resorts and music playing in the distance. Pop music like I used to hear back home in the penthouse when I was lost in my paints, brushes, and paintings. Ariana Grande, Post Malone, and Dean Lewis.
“You’re painted from head to toe, a painting yourself,”I heard Dad joke lovingly. Suddenly, a weight bore down on my chest, pressing my ribs so firmly against my heart that I could hardly breathe. I suddenly longed for Dad and New York with such force that I almost lost my mind. No matter what he had or had not done, I wanted to throw my arms around him, bury my nose in his thousand-dollar shirt, and cry until there were no more tears left. He was my dad—and I missed him so much.
I needed to speak to him, needed to ask him so many questions.Why did Mom really want to leave you? Am I to blame for her death? Is that why I don’t remember? And why were the blue pills in Mr. Sparkles’ stomach? What about Coldville, Dad?There was so much I didn’t understand, so much that might have gone wrong. But, after everything that had happened today, I needed his reassurance, his words, and his tenderness. I needed his power to protect me. I wanted him to have Isaac thrown in prison for life so he could never hurt me again. Every time wood creaked or cracked in the distance, I feared that Isaac had caught up with us, which was utter nonsense.
Exhausted, I glanced around when Nathan stopped. I had no idea how they were going to get away from here nor did I have a clue what they were planning to do with me now. They had hardly spoken, but Nathan had whispered to Icarus earlier, but I hadn’t understood a word.
“Wait here. Ian will come with me,” Nathan said, pointing toward the road. “Kjertan, look after her!” He looked at me briefly through the shadows of the trees. There wasn’t much emotion in it, more urgency and focus, but that was okay. He had saved me from his brother, so I couldn’t expect more.
As he disappeared into the darkness with Icarus, I realized that I didn’t know what he had meant by his words.Look after her because of Spartaorlook after her so she doesn’t run away from us?
From Pan I looked at Sparta, who was sitting on the ground, his back against a tree trunk gasping. He needed to go to a hospital, needed medical attention and a warm bed whether he was a traitor or not. And Troy? I glanced at him. He had his hands on the top of his head, shifting from one foot to the other.
“Sh-shit cold, huh?” He grinned even though his teeth were chattering.
“Hmm!” was all I uttered. For a split second, I considered fleeing, but common sense held me back. Pan would have caught me in less than three steps. I was too battered, and as crazy as it sounded, I felt like I owed them something. Maybe they would let me go anyway. Their plan had failed, and unless they were going to show Dad pictures of my maltreatment like Isaac had planned, I was useless to them and just more baggage when they went into hiding.
When I thought about possibly actually going home, a deep, bittersweet longing tugged at me. That meant not only seeing Dad again but also having to leave Nathan.
And that pierced my heart.
