straight to my heart that’s barely able to continue beating.
I will never let my sister go, not now or ever. And not to a bunch of Hunters who will either butcher or peddle her off.
The net suddenly jerks closer to the ship, along with my attention, and lands on a young boy holding a stick that’s looped within the mesh of the net.
He looks around my age, sandy brown hair and dark eyes. Our faces practically align with each other less than two arm’s length away.
Too close.
Alarm sounds in my head mixed with the instincts that I always try to nudge and propel away from me. His eyes widen, fastened on me as I do the same, in a stand-still moment where nothing moves and all sounds mute around us.
Opening his mouth, no words come out, and I can’t help the shutter that shoots through my frame. I’ve never been this close to a human before, and he seems to share the sentiment because he’s frozen along the railing of the ship.
Suddenly, I hear the hollers of men around us, breaking the hypnotic state I’m in, and it appears to do the same for him because he finally makes a move.
Reaching for something at his hip, I don’t wait to see what it is—I just swing.
Cutting through the crisp air that dries my skin, I catch the side of his face with my blade. He drops his stick that keeps us close to the ship, his hands immediately going to the place where I sliced him while the net swings away.
“Get them overboard boy!”
“Swing the net,” I tell my sister.
“What?”
“Swing the net,” I repeat. “They won’t be able to bring us around easily.” Rohana uses her body weight, leaning forward and backward while still holding on to my hand.
As carefully as I can so I don’t accidentally cut myself, I begin my attempt to sever some of the rope. In the process, the unpredictable net goes in every single direction possible, pumping my adrenaline through my eardrums and increasing the burn coursing through the pads of my fingers.
Then my knife breaks through a piece of binding.
Trying to study the progress while being thrashed through the air, our reality slaps me in the face. With the number of men on this ship and just the two of us, we’re never getting out of this.
One small piece and it’s not enough to free her.
“Davina.” It’s a demand to pay attention, to accept the inevitable that I know has transpired between Rohana and I.
We’re the closest in age, the two sisters who like similar things, share our wildest dreams late at night, and delve into all the stupid things I want to do.
And coming this far south is by far the most brainless of them all.
I’m going to lose my sister tonight. Lose her over a stupid excursion because I wanted to add more to my collection of trinkets and dodads. Rohana wanted to come, she always does. This time around, Kali caught us, so that’s how she ended up here, but it was Rohana that never left my side. She was my other half, my confidant and best friend.
And I just gave her life up for an old, forgotten cove of riches.
“You have to let go now,” my sister digresses. “It’s okay.” Her voice sounds so sure and not scared anymore, it’s more accepting than anything.
It rings my gut inside out, a sharp pain hitting the pit of it as she rubs my fingers with hers in a soothing rhythm.
I violently shake my head. “Let me try some more.”
Her now dehydrated hand tightens around mine. “It’s no use,” she says calmly. “You won’t be able to in time.”
My head shoots up to her. How does she think I’d ever be able to let her go? I’d die for all six of my sisters in a moment’s time before I’d let anything happen to them.
I feel my fingers being pried away from the net. One at a time as she starts to loosen my hold on her prison.
“Rohana,” I snap, trying to close my fingers tightly back around the rope. “Stop.”
I see a tear trail down her cheek as she stays focused on my white-knuckled hand, staring at the only piece of my body that links me to her.
I won’t leave her.
I. Will. Not. Leave. Her.
“Davina—” She breaks into a sob. “—please.”
My brows furrow as tears burn the back of my eyes. “I won’t leave you behind.”
“You have to, Sister. You have to