Page 53 of Shielding Instinct

Below her, seawater swept into the blowhole.

The men lowered her.

On the second wave, Petra was ankle-deep in water. She visually marked that space by focusing on a rock that jutted out. “Hold!” Petra waited for the wave to recede. “Lower!”

Down, down she went.

One of Petra’s superpowers was that she genuinely believed she could do anything she wanted to. It might mean a little learning or training, but yeah, in body and brain, anything shewantedto do was within her reach or had been so far.

Of course, her list of wants hadn’t included such things as professional opera singer, MMA fighter, or Olympian, so there hadn’t been anything to dissuade her magical thinking.

Petra’s other superpower was a wide range of interests, which led to a wide range of skills that might be part of the illusion that she could conquer anything.

Did she really think that with a length of hot pink rope from a cargo hold and a bunch of good citizens, she could dothis?

Maybe she was just acting on her military training, which taught her to run toward the enemy.

And then, FBI training.

Okay, she reasoned as the next wave came to her hips. She did have some training.

But this, under any circumstances, was beyond her capacity.

And with a lack of proper equipment, it was foolhardy.

And yet here she was in a blow hole, for crap's sake.

Petra tipped her head up so her voice would carry to the rope crew. “Hold!”

The rope was rough against her skin, abrading the top layer, and exposing her nerves to the salt water.

The pain was a good sign that she was in her body—thinking, rational, following what training she had that she could apply here.

When adrenaline stopped the pain, she’d need to reassess. Adrenaline could tell her body it was fine when, in fact, it hid a life-threatening injury.

Petra didnotplan to die today.

If she died, it was likely Terry would die as well.

If she died, it served no good. Petra set those parameters, “no pain means I need to come back up and form a new, more plausible plan.”

Another wave roared into the hole, and Petra shoved hard into her borrowed tennis shoe-clad feet to brace as the wave whooshed in.

It was surprising how loud it was as the small space captured the roar and sent it ricocheting up the sides to release toward the sky.

She was surprised at how much space her heart took up in her chest and how the sound of her blood processing through the four chambers joined the roar of the wave.

Sucking in a lung full of air and pinching her nose, Petra squeezed her eyelids tightly together. The wave only came to her chin, but the spray sprinkled salt onto her lashes.

When the wave receded, Petra looked down to see how far it was to the opening. Leaning down, she could almost get her fingers around the lip.

“Terry, are you in good enough shape to follow instructions?”

“Help.” Terry croaked.

“All right, Terry, listen up. I need you to count backward from a hundred by twos.” It seemed a cruel thing to do, but Petra’s brain was conjuring all kinds of scenarios where drowning people pulled their rescuers to their deaths.

If Terry panicked and dragged her down, Petra too could get trapped by the waves and possibly not escape this blow hole alive.

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