Hunter's Alpha (gxg) ✓

49. Explosion

JUDE

There is no bomb.

There is an entire fucking floor of them. All interwoven, laced together. Dynamite and grenades, and the sound of a tick-tick-tick.

I am afraid to breathe. I don't even dare step down from the ladder.

"They are going to blow us to hell," I whisper to Alisa above.

The bottom of the ship is a fucking mine. One wrong move, and all of us will die instantly.

"When do we this?" I whisper.

From above, Daniel calls out, "There's a boat rowing towards us!"

My head snaps up. "They're almost here."

I don't need to say the rest. And then we all die.

Because the moment Imai presses the button on his control, there will be an explosion that puts the atomic bomb to shame.

But before I can tell myself not to, I am scrambling back up the ladder—to the edge of the deck. Hoping to catch a glimpse of her—of Hunter.

The rain is pounding down on the ship so hard I have to squint against it.

There is a faint smudge of shadow against the roaring ocean. A small boat, swaying over the treacherous waves.

Two people.

It has to be Hunter and Elijah.

She came for me.

And if she makes it here, she will die for me, too.

"We have to do this now," I tell Alisa and Daniel. "If they get close enough, Imai will press the button and we'll be damned."

Please. Please don't let this be for nothing.

"You're fucking insane," Alistair spits, but Daniel is holding a knife to his throat.

All it takes is a moment to reach the bottom of the ship. Before I touch the floor, I hesitate. I want to see the sky when I die.

One last thing. To die, facing the sky.

The last priority on my bucket list.

"Alisa," I say. "How much time do we have?"

"Probably five minutes," she says. "The storm will delay them. But in five minutes, they'll be inside our range."

"You must love Elijah," I say softly. "To want to do this."

But she only shakes her head. "I'm his pet—nothing more. We die either way, and I know that. I'm doing this for you, Jude. Because the way you feel about Hunter . . . that's what I would have wanted to have one day."

There is no reassurance I can offer her.

I can not even say, One day, you will.

There is no longer any one day.

"I'm sorry," I whisper.