19PurposeI stroke forward, panic shuddering through my body until my eyes adjust to the brackish water. I stay low, not wanting to ripple the lake, and push beneath the long shadow of the dock.
Overhead, Lucas’s netted figure shimmers against the breaking dawn. I strangle the impulse to lurch upward, to rip away his bindings. If I even graze the Caro wire, the whole clearing will go up in flames.
I brace my boots against sand and mud and heave myself to the surface. I suck in air, and cast a wary eye at Bridget’s feet dangling over the lip of the dock.
My gaze crawls over Lucas. He’s tethered to the dock’s weathered, wooden planks, cocooned by coiled silver.
They’ve wound him tight. His broad body seems lithe, pinched together by wire. He sways gently in the current I’ve created. Limp.
