The icy seawater soaked through her clothes, then rushed into her nose and mouth. Her hands and feet were tightly bound—sinking like this, she was basically dead meat. The saltwater stung the wound on her leg so bad it felt like a knife twisting inside her.
She kept sinking. She thrashed around like crazy, but it was useless.
At this point, she couldn't even tell what hurt more—the wounds, or the water filling up her lungs.
"Chloe! Where are you?!"
Just as her eyelids were about to shut for good, she heard someone shouting her name. She tried to answer, but the moment she opened her mouth, she swallowed a gutful of seawater.
That was Hank's voice. But—he couldn't swim!
She remembered—when they first met, he had nearly drowned.
The thought terrified her. If Hank reall
