50. Death

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HUNTER


"No," I whisper, as fire erupts against the stormy sky.

The paddle slips out of my hand. Crashing against the bottom of our boat. But I don't bother picking it up—not as the ship in the distance explodes into a thousand shards of flame and fury.

"No," I repeat. "No."

It comes from somewhere inside of me—wild and raw and volatile.

The ship that Jude and the other hostages are on—incinerated.

Sparks rain down from the sky like glowing rain. The lightning that splashes against the clouds is vicious. And as chunks of wood and flame plunge into the sea around us, all I can do is stare.

Jude, I think.

My mind cannot form the idea. I cannot comprehend the possibility.

It isn't true. It can't be true.

She is safe. She is okay.

Jude is okay. Jude has to be okay. How can she not be okay? How can it not end up okay?

We were supposed to make it out of here.

We were supposed to survive this together.

She wasn't supposed to die.

"We have to go back," Elijah says roughly. "We can't stay here. We'll get hit by the debris—we'll get burned."

"No," I say, choked. "Jude."

I don't think I have ever felt this way in my life.

This is not the same as snapping.

This is the sound of me breaking.

"We can't leave," I repeat. "We can't leave. Jude—she needs me—"

But before he can protest this idea, fire collides into the side of our boat.

Great clouds of black smoke twist against the electric sky. As the flame bursts against the wood, I am thrown into the water.

Cold—the sea is so cold I let out a gasp.

Elijah. Where is Elijah?

The fire unravels around his body, revealing the half-burned remains of pink sequins before he is dragged under the ferocious waves.

Somehow, I manage to latch on to charred wood.

Breathing hard. Elijah. Elijah is dead.

And Jude is—

Jude isn't dead. I need to find her.

Because she can't be—she can't be—

"Jude!" I scream above the wind and the rain and the storm. I hear the crack of lightning—or maybe it is the wood of the ship, striking the ocean. "Jude! I'm here!"

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