The water didn’t just feel cold; it felt like a thousand needles piercing every inch of my skin at once. The impact with the quarry’s surface knocked the remaining air from my lungs, and for a terrifying second, the weight of my soaked silk suit threatened to pull me into the black abyss below.
Then, a powerful grip clamped onto the back of my jacket.
Rosw’s head broke the surface beside mine, his dark hair plastered to his forehead, his eyes wild and scanning the darkness. He didn’t say a word. He couldn't. The sheer shock of the temperature had stolen our voices. With one arm hooked around my waist, he began to swim toward a jagged limestone ledge at the far end of the quarry, his strokes heavy and rhythmic despite the freezing weight of his own clothes.
We dragged ourselves onto the
