Chapter 3: Blood in the Water
1054 Words
Teri knew the game was over the second she heard the first gunshot.
A sharp, cracking sound that cut through the hum of conversation, sending a ripple of tension across the deck.
At first, she thought maybe it was a firework—some drunk i***t setting off something too close to the boat. But then she saw Raf move.
Not just turn—move.
One second, he was smirking at her, eyes dark with intrigue. The next, he was standing, completely alert, his entire posture shifting from relaxed to lethal in an instant.
Teri barely had time to process it before chaos exploded around them.
More gunfire.
Glass shattering.
Screams.
The yacht lurched violently as people shoved past each other, running for cover, knocking over tables and drinks as the party dissolved into panic.
Teri’s instincts kicked in. Move. Get low. Find Lena.
She turned just in time to see Lena scrambling toward her, wide-eyed and terrified.
“Teri!”
“I’m here!” she shouted, grabbing her friend’s wrist. “We have to get off this boat—”
Before she could finish, strong hands wrapped around her waist.
Not a threat. Raf.
He pulled her against his chest, his grip firm but careful. “Stay behind me,” he ordered. “Do exactly what I say.”
His voice wasn’t teasing anymore. It was all steel.
“Raf—what the hell is happening?” she demanded.
But he didn’t answer.
Instead, he spoke into an earpiece she hadn’t even realized he was wearing.
“*Get her out of here.**”
Teri barely had time to register that he meant Lena before two men in black suits appeared, moving toward her friend with precision and purpose.
Lena recoiled. “Whoa—hell no. Who are you?”
“They’ll get you to safety,” Raf said, his hand tightening around Teri’s. “Go with them.”
Lena looked at Teri, panicked.
Teri hesitated—why the hell did Raf have men? Who was he?
But gunfire cracked through the air again, and Lena grabbed the nearest guy’s arm. “Okay, fine! Just don’t let me get shot!”
Teri barely had time to breathe before Raf was pulling her again.
“This way,” he murmured, voice low and controlled. “Stay close.”
She didn’t argue.
She could question him later. Right now, she needed to survive.
The yacht was tilting wildly, the water churning below as gunfire rang out from a smaller boat circling them.
Raf moved like he knew exactly where he was going.
Teri followed, heart pounding, pulse racing, adrenaline flooding her veins.
Then—pain.
A sharp, searing burn across her ribs.
She gasped, nearly stumbling.
Raf turned instantly, his green eyes flashing with something dark.
“You’re hurt,” he said. Not a question. A statement.
Teri gritted her teeth. No time.
“It’s fine.”
“Liar.”
She sucked in a breath. The gash was shallow. It stung like hell, warm liquid seeping into the fabric of her dress, but it wasn’t enough to slow her down.
She had bigger problems.
Because in the next second, Raf stiffened.
Then—
A dull thud.
A sickening crack.
Teri’s stomach dropped as she watched his body go limp.
Oh. Oh, no.
A man—one of the attackers—had swung a weapon against the side of Raf’s head.
The impact was brutal. His legs gave out.
He fell toward the edge of the yacht—
And then—
He was gone.
Swallowed by the ocean.
Teri’s blood turned to ice.
There were so many reasons not to do what she was about to do.
But she did it anyway.
She dove in after him.
The water was colder than she expected.
Dark. Endless.
Teri forced her eyes open, searching.
She found him fast.
Sinking. Still.
Come on, Raf, don’t you dare die on me.
She reached him, wrapped an arm around his torso, and kicked toward the surface with everything she had.
The weight of him was unbearable.
His body was solid, heavy—deadweight in the worst possible way.
But she didn’t stop.
She would not let him go.
Not now. Not after all that.
Her lungs screamed by the time they broke the surface, and she gasped, coughing up salt water, dragging his ridiculously heavy, built-like-a-damn-tank body up with her.
“Jesus, Raf,” she wheezed, arms burning as she adjusted her grip around his chest. “Do you lift boats for fun? What the hell do they feed you?”
No response.
Great. Unconscious, still.
Wreckage floated nearby—a chunk of the yacht, large enough to hold them both. If she could just get them there.
She gritted her teeth and swam, kicking hard, her limbs screaming in protest.
He didn’t help. At all.
She barely got him onto the floating piece of debris, hauling him up inch by inch, until he flopped onto the surface like an overgrown, muscle-packed sack of potatoes.
Teri flopped down next to him, chest heaving, arms shaking.
“Seriously,” she panted, poking his shoulder, “who the hell naps in the middle of a yacht explosion?”
Nothing.
She exhaled sharply, shifting onto her knees and leaning over him.
“Raf,” she gasped, gently slapping his face.
Still nothing.
Her breath hitched.
“Raf, you do not get to die right now, do you hear me?”
No response.
She pressed two fingers to his throat—pulse. Barely there.
Relief slammed through her so hard she nearly fell over.
She wanted to cry. Or strangle him. Maybe both.
Instead, she kept him close, kept her fingers against his pulse, kept breathing.
Because if he was still fighting, so was she.
And the ocean carried them away.
Teri didn’t know how long they drifted.
Time blurred.
Her body was too exhausted to feel pain anymore.
Then—
Sand.
Her knees hit solid ground. Shaky. Wet. Covered in salt and blood.
Somehow, some way, they had made it to shore.
Teri’s vision swam, but she used the last of her strength to drag Raf off the raft and onto the beach.
His face was pale, but he was alive.
That was all that mattered.
Teri exhaled.
Then, finally, she collapsed.
Everything faded to black
- Writer
