Roxanne sobbed loudly, clinging to David. “Please stop,” she cried, shaking. “I don’t want her punished like this. I just wanted peace. I just wanted my babies back.” She cried so hard she could barely stand.
David raised his hand. “Enough.”
They finally stepped back.
Someone shoved a small urn into my trembling hands. It was cold. Too light.
“Do it,” David said. “Scatter the ashes. Apologize properly.”
The wind was strong as I was dragged to the edge. My hands shook so badly I almost dropped it right away. I could barely stand. My legs felt like they might give out.
Roxanne stepped closer, crying softly. “Isabella, please. Let my babies rest.”
The urn slipped from my hands.
Silence.
Then screaming.
“You useless monster!” my mother shrieked.
Before I could react, my father grabbed Ryle.
“Go get it!” he yelled.
He threw my son over the railing. I screamed his name. My body moved before my mind could catch up. I ran. I did not think. I did not breathe. I jumped.
The water was freezing. It swallowed me whole.
I saw Ryle for a second. His small body was sinking. His arms flailed.
"Mom!"
"Ryle!"
I kicked. I reached. My lungs burned. My arms felt weak. The waves pulled us apart.
“Send a boat!” David ordered. His voice cut clean through the wind. “Get both of them out.”
I was barely holding Ryle. My arms felt like they were tearing. Every wave dragged us down again. I kicked because I had to. Because if I stopped, he would sink.
Another voice yelled back, “Sir, Roxanne collapsed!”
I heard her scream my name. Weak. Fragile. Perfect.
David swore. Footsteps rushed. Someone shouted that the helicopter was ready, blades already roaring above us.
“Take her to the hospital now,” he said, fast and sharp. “She can’t lose consciousness out here.”
I wanted to laugh. I wanted to scream.
Before he left, he turned back to the sea.
“Keep searching,” he told his men. “They’re not dead. Isabella swims well. The kid too. They’re probably trying to run. Trying to get away from me.”
Run? Me?
I could barely breathe.
Water burned my throat. My arms shook so hard I thought they would snap. Ryle coughed, small hands clawing at my neck.
“It’s okay,” I tried to say, but it came out as bubbles. “Mom’s here.”
The waves did not care.
Above us, the helicopter lifted, carrying Roxanne away like she was made of glass. Below, the sea pulled us down like we were nothing.
DAVID'S POV