The white helmet drifted like a piece of bleached bone against the charcoal swells, appearing and disappearing with the rhythmic pulse of the tide. I gripped the nylon webbing of the rescue net, my knuckles white, my eyes tracking that solitary dot until the helicopter banked and the mist swallowed it whole. Dax’s hand remained heavy on my shoulder, a silent anchor, but the heat of his touch couldn't reach the ice that had settled in my chest.
"She’s gone," I said, the words feeling like shards of glass in my throat.
Dax didn't answer. He signaled to the pilot, and we were hauled into the vibrating belly of the bird. The interior smelled of hydraulic fluid and adrenaline. Tank was there, his face streaked with soot, already wrapping a thermal blanket around my shaking shoulders. No one c
