Page 103 of The SEAL's Duchess
Ivy waited on the far side—small, alone, wrapped in her own arms. Snow whipped around her, the emergency lights dousing everything bloody.
Another cable ruptured—closer this time, a metallic firecracker that hurt his teeth.
The walkway was on its last seconds.
“Ivy!” He raised his voice above the clamor—calm, commanding. Every ounce of control he had left. “Eyes on me. Nothing else.”
She nodded once and slid one boot onto the walkway.
His heart stopped. Started again when she didn’t fall.
He kept his gaze locked on hers as she advanced, one hand on the rail, the other reaching toward her. He needed to see her feet to judge the sway.
To catch her if she fell.
And he would catch her. He hadn’t fought through fire and ice and a failing rig to lose her now.
“That’s it. You’re doing great. Keep coming.”
“Ryder—”
“Walk to me, Ivy.”
Ten feet. Eight.
Her eyes were huge in the orange light, but she kept moving, trusting him to guide her back.
Six.
“Almost there, Ivy.”
Four.
Her lips were blue, her breath ghosting between them.
Close enough to grab her if?—
Don’t think. Get her across.
A metallic shriek punctured the air.
Ivy froze, gaze dropping. The deck sagged under her feet.
“Ryder—”
The walkway gave a long, aching sigh as bolts sheared free.
No,not when she was almost safe?—
The panel buckled.
Her hand shot out toward him, grasping for something—anything.
Time fractured.
For one impossible heartbeat, her eyes held his.
No—
