The Devil's CrownPart Two - Monica James Page 0,78
someone while Ella is struggling with what she did to Frank is heartless. I don’t want her to think taking someone’s life is easy. It’s easy for me because I’ve done it so many times.
“It’s okay,” she says, treading water a few feet away from me. “Why did you decide to do that?” That meaning feed him his own cock.
It still pains me as I confess, “Because he implied, he…well, he suggested he molested Irina. And that he wasn’t the first.”
“What?” she gasps, slowing down her treading.
“Yes, when I found her, she was dolled up like no little girl ever should be. If I could kill that долбоёб again, I would.” I clench my fists, rage overtaking me.
Ella blanches before turning around and swimming back toward the yacht.
“Shit,” I curse as I should have thought before I spoke. “I’m sorry, Ella.”
I quickly swim after her, angry with myself for revealing too much. Of course, this is too much to take in.
She lifts herself onto the platform and snares a towel from the lounge chair. I boost myself up onto the platform seconds later, heart in my throat as I’m worried she’s going to stop talking to me again. She rubs her skin raw as she dries herself, refusing to look at me.
“I’m sorry. Please forgive me for saying too much.”
However, when she shakes her head, gnawing on her bottom lip, it appears I’ve misunderstood this entire situation.
“Forgive you?” she cries, her cheeks flushing an angry red. “I’m the one who should be asking for forgiveness. I’m such an idiot. I’ve started a war with the Macrillos.
“You’ve left Irina behind when she needs you the most just to save my ass…again. If only—”
“Hey,” I say, stepping forward. “Stop it. You didn’t force me to do any of this. I’m here because I want to be.”
I won’t allow her to shoulder the blame. I saw the state she was in. The people to blame are the Macrillos.
I want more than anything to reach out and touch her, but I don’t. It’s hard to remember I gave up that right when I allowed her to get hurt.
A voice over the CB radio interrupts us, and when I hear what they say, I swiftly run up the stairs toward the radio. Picking up the fist mic, I ask them to repeat what they just said because there has to be some mistake.
But when they confirm that we’re in the direct path of an upcoming monster storm, confusion turns to panic. I thank them and quickly consult the digital weather charts on the control panel.
“блять!” I curse, frantically checking the radar in hopes it’ll say something different. It doesn’t.
“What’s the matter?” Ella asks, clinging to the towel, sensing something is wrong.
“That was another boat. They just put out a distress call for all boats in the area. An unexpected storm is headed our way.”
“Oh, my god. Is it bad?”
Nodding, I sidestep to look into the sky. The clear blue skies have turned a wrathful gray. “We have to slow down.”
“Can’t we change course?”
“There’s no time.” The wind begins to pick up speed, and the temperature has dropped about ten degrees in minutes, confirming my claims. “She’s strong. We can ride it out. Don’t worry.”
The truth is, however, no matter how good of a sailor one may be, storms are unpredictable. We are now at the mercy of the sea gods.
Ella turns and runs down the stairs, which is a good move. She’ll be safer indoors than she will be up here. Flicking the switches, I decrease the speed, looking at the satellite to see how far out we are. We have about twenty-five minutes.
“Here!” Ella yells, startling me because I thought she’d gone to safety. But when she offers me a T-shirt and my boat shoes, I realize there is no way she’d let me do this alone.
She’s slipping into her sneakers anxiously, her fear palpable. I want to assure her it’ll be okay, but as the storm mass begins to grow on the satellite screen, I actually don’t know if it will be.
Once dressed, I run over to the chest and retrieve the two life vests. I also grab the flare gun just in case. This is just my luck. For us to get shipwrecked. I suppose it worked for Saint and Willow, but eventually, I found them, helpless and with no means to fight, which is what will happen to us.
But the difference is—we will never get out alive.