Tristan lunged forward, heart hammering. No, not again.
Without hesitation, he vaulted over the railing, plunging into the dark, churning waters below. The moment he hit the ocean, the cold struck like a knife, shocking his body. But there was no time to process it—he kicked hard, scanning the surface for Rosalind.
For a breathless second, there was nothing but black water and the distant roar of the burning cruise ship. Then—there.
A flicker of red beneath the waves.
Tristan dove, slicing through the water. Rosalind was sinking fast, the weight of her gown dragging her down. He reached for her, his fingers brushing silk before gripping her wrist. He yanked her toward him, wrapping an arm around her waist as he kicked upward.
Breaking the surface, he gasped for air. Rosalind coughed,
