Page 97 of Brass
The autopilot hums, guiding the boat straight toward the jagged outcropping that will serve as our supposed tomb.
This is it.
The part where we disappear.
I sit on the rear platform, hands fumbling as I strap on the long black fins. They squeak faintly, rubber slipping over neoprene. My breath hitches as I pull the mask down over my eyes and adjust the snorkel, the plastic mouthpiece alien against my tongue.
Ryan’s already done. Efficient. Controlled. As always.
He kneels in front of me, checking the straps on my gear, tugging them snug. His fingers linger on my ankle, then rise to squeeze my calf through the wetsuit.
“You okay?” he murmurs, voice low and steady, pitched just for me.
I nod, but the movement is jerky.
I’m not okay.I’m about to fake my death in open water. I’m about to vanish, again. This isn’t survival. This is erasure.
But I trust him.
And that’s the only reason I haven’t screamed.
“We stay shallow,” he says, voice clipped, professional now. “Surface swim, steady pace. I’ll take the lead. Once we’re clear of the blast radius, I’ll trigger the det.”
“How far is that?”
“A hundred yards minimum. We’ll go two, just in case.”
I nod again, throat dry. The idea of water slipping over my face, cold and total, makes my lungs tighten—but I breathe through it. In. Out. Just like he taught me.
The boat pitches gently beneath us, like it knows what’s coming. Spray mist kisses my cheeks. The rocks are closer now, sharp and waiting.
Ryan reaches for my hand, fingers curling around mine. Warm. Solid. The last tether to the world we’re leaving behind.
“Now,” he says, and the word slices clean through the moment.
We slide off the swim platform and into the water.
THIRTY-THREE
Celeste
The cold hitslike ice and fire all at once—crashing over my skin, stealing my breath. The impact knocks the air from my lungs, but I recover fast, head snapping above the surface. The mask holds. The snorkel is in place.
Ryan surfaces beside me, grabs my hand, and kicks. Strong, steady strokes. I follow, matching him beat for beat, each kick pushing me farther from the boat, from the life I’ve known, from everything I thought was safe.
The engine drones behind us, growing smaller, swallowed by the sea.
We swim.
And behind us, our death ticks closer with every breath.
Then …
The sea convulses.
A deep, shuddering boom erupts behind us—less a sound than a force, a pressure wave that punches through the water, slamming into my spine like a battering ram. The world jerks sideways. A surge of displaced seawater rolls beneath me, tossing me up like a rag doll.
My ears ring. My lungs seize. I surface instinctively, gasping, and what I see steals the breath right back out of me.
