Page 115 of Dirty Cowboy

The train barrels closer, the tracks trembling under its weight.

Huntz steps toward them. Emma backs up and Misty follows.

"Emma!" The word rips from my throat, raw and desperate.

Time slows as I watch them drop, disappearing off the edge of the bridge. My lungs seize, and I stumble.

Emma and Misty cling to the underside of the steel beams, their arms straining against the weight of their bodies. Huntz hangs too, his movements eerily calculated, his grip unnervingly sure. The train barrels over them, shaking the bridge with the force of a violent earthquake. Metal screeches. The deafening roar of wheels against steel drowns out my pulse, but I can feel it hammering through my skull.

And then, a gunshot cracks the air.

“No!” I scream, launching forward.

My legs burn as I hurry toward the riverbank, each step feeling like a lifetime. The bridge looms overhead, and as I reach the edge of the water, Emma loses her grip.

She falls, and time fractures.

Her hair fans out around her, a golden halo catching the morning light before she vanishes beneath the surface. The river swallows her whole, leaving only a violent ripple in her place.

Another gunshot rings out, but all I see is the water, and the dark, churning current where she disappeared.

This is my fault.

I did this.

I brought her here. I lied to her.

And now, I’m losing her.

“Emma!” Her name rips from my throat, raw and broken. My entire world collapses in on itself.

I don’t think. I just move. I yank off my boots, shuck off my sweatpants, and dive.

The river’s cold is a blade to my chest, cutting through my ribs and locking up my lungs. The current grips me like an unseen monster, dragging me under, but I fight. I fight because I have to. My arms pump through the water, each stroke driven by pure, blind desperation.

Emma is down there. Alone. Drowning. And I have to find her.

The river is inky black beneath the surface. My hands swipe through nothing. The silt stings my eyes, burning as I search, but I don’t stop. I can’t stop. My lungs scream, my chest tightening. Still, I push deeper, fighting against the relentless pull of the current.

Then—

A flash of movement.

Hair. A limp body. Drifting, caught in the undertow.

I kick harder, reaching, stretching, until my fingers brush fabric. I grab her, wrapping an arm around her waist, and pulling her against me. Her body is motionless. Too still.

I break the surface, gasping for air.

“I’ve got you, Ems,” I choke out. My voice is raw, barely a whisper against the roaring in my ears.

I fight the current, dragging us both toward the shore, my body screaming with exhaustion. Every stroke feels heavier, my limbs burning. When my feet finally hit solid ground, I haul her up onto the grass, collapsing beside her.

She’s pale. Too pale. Her lips are tinged with blue, and her body’s unnervingly still.

No.

My hands tremble as I check for a pulse.

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