Page 106 of The SEAL's Duchess
Ivy couldn’t stop shaking. The cold had burrowed so deep into her bones she wasn’t sure she’d ever be warm again.
Ryder pushed to his feet. His right arm hung at his side, useless.
When he tried to move it, his face went white. An involuntary sound tore from his throat that made Ivy’s stomach clench.Not good.
“Your shoulder?”
“Fine.” He shook his head.
“Liar.”
His smile was faint, but there was agony stamped on every line on his face. The shoulder he’d used to catch her, to hold her entire weight while she dangled sixty feet above the ocean—it was destroyed.
This man.
He’d risked everything to save her.
“We need to move.” He swayed once, caught himself. “Rig’s not going to last much longer.”
Jack struggled up with Ivy’s help, one arm clutching her side. The three of them stood there for a moment, battered and bloody and barely standing.
Then Ryder turned toward the access hatch. “Gantry’s at the bottom. We go down, radio Wyatt for pickup.”
Down meant the ladders. The same ladders he’d climbed to reach them. Ivy looked at his useless arm.
“Your arm?”
“I’ll manage.” He took hold of her hand and pulled her in to press a kiss to her forehead.
Jack limped to the hatch and together they moved in a slow convoy.
Ivy went first, testing each rung before putting her weight on it. Behind her, Ryder climbed one-handed, his injured arm pinned to his side. He couldn’t grip the rungs—instead he hooked his good arm through each rung, using his body weight to control the descent.
Every few rungs he’d stop, breathing hard, and she’d wait until he was ready to continue. Jack brought up the rear, moving like every breath cost her.
The rig’s death throes rent the air around them, metal shredding as supports gave way. Emergency lights flickered and extinguished. Ivy’s hands were so numb she couldn’t feel the rungs, and her legs were weak with exhaustion.
But they kept moving.
Down through the maze of corridors, through the strobing darkness. One ladder. Then another.
When they finally stumbled onto the lower gantry, Ivy’s legs gave out. She sat down hard on the wet metal and couldn’t make herself get back up.
Ryder reached for his radio one-handed, fumbling with the clip. “Wyatt, this is Ryder. Respond.”
Static.
He tried again. “Wyatt, do you copy?”
Nothing. Just the storm lashing around them and the empty dark where the boat should have been.
His eyes met Ivy’s across the gantry. His silence said everything.
This might be it.
The rig shuddered with a deep, bone-rattling vibration Ivy felt in her teeth. Above them, an explosion detonated and something massive tore free.
We’re out of time.She squeezed her eyes shut tight against hot tears.
