Chapter Eleven
Nina’s POV
I was dying.
The ocean just took.
My lungs screamed for air that wouldn’t come. I tried to kick, but my legs had turned to dead weight, useless appendages dragging me deeper into the blue-black void.
My arms moved in slow motion, pushing weakly against water that felt thick as concrete.
This is it, I thought. This is how I die.
Not in a red room full of chains. Not at the hands of whatever enemies wanted to collect on my father’s debts. But here, alone in the Atlantic, my body becomes just another piece of flotsam for the tide to claim.
I saw my mother’s face.
Not the waxy, wrong version in the casket. The real one. The way she looked in our kitchen on Saturday mornings, flour dusting her cheek as she laughed at her own jokes. Her eyes are bright and war
