Page 84 of Resisted
“I’m not afraid of the dark, Vincent.” She slid into my hand easy enough before she dangled her feet into the water. “I’m afraid of what I see in the light.”
Of course this girl wouldn’t be afraid of the unknown. She was meant for us, ready to plow headfirst into the world of danger to combat the injustices our people faced. My fingers grabbed onto her hips. “Well, all the same, nothing will hurt, baby. Just so you know.”
I pulled her down toward the water, her hands grabbing onto my shoulders as her body lowered. Thank god for the wetsuits or we wouldn’t ever make it past this point. The waters of San Francisco—hell, most of the west coast—were frigid, more so at this time of year. She clung to me for a few moments, and yeah, I knew we were in the middle of ocean waters, at night, on a rescue mission, but fuck if I didn’t wrap my arms around her as tightly as possible and let her cling as long as she needed to.
All too soon, she peeled herself away from my body, and I wanted to chase her, force her to hold on just a moment longer, but she was already following the others toward the shore, leaving me to trail behind her. Fuck, I hated this, but she went so willingly, integrated herself in our lives, our profession, like she was made for it, and maybe she was. After tonight, if we survived, I doubted a girl like Bella would be willing to wait tables at a diner in the middle of nowhere any longer.
The swim was short, and all too soon, she was on the bank, already climbing up rocks like she could do it with her eyes closed. Hell, maybe she could do that too. There were so many things we’d done to prepare her as a child, thinking it was for her safety if anything came along, and here she was, using it to save one of us. Not for her safety, ours.
I pulled my body out of the water, my fingers barely holding on to the slick cool rocks as I pulled myself up and placed my body next to hers on stable ground. Her wetsuit was already being peeled away before I plopped the bag of supplies by her feet and tore it away, handing her extra clothing.
“What do we do with the wetsuit?”
“Leave it,” I mumbled.
“But what if we need it on the way back?” She put on her long-sleeved shirt, a dirty dusty color green that somehow fit into the feel of the island.
“Honest answer?” I licked my lips, trying to push back my nerves.
“Always the honest answer.” Her eyes bore into my own with a challenge.
I blinked first. “We won’t be using them. We’ll be in the water and on the jet skis before you could blink. Our body heat should sustain us long enough to get to the shore. We’ll warm up when we get there.”
“But we could catch hypothermia,” She stated, and though she was correct, she didn’t completely understand.
“We could, but we’re shifters, so the chances are unlikely. Our temperature control runs different from humans. We should survive fine until we get to shore.”
She looked sad before she said, “Only I’m not really a shifter.”
I couldn’t stop my hand from fisting in the back of her hair as I pulled her close, resting my forehead against hers. “You’re as much a shifter as any of us. Try telling my wolf differently. He refuses to believe it.”
She bit her lip, and I wanted to lean in and use my teeth to pull it away. When she released it, she asked, “If we don’t need the wetsuits, why did we use them?”
“It’s better to start our journey not frozen to our cores, then have to battle a whole threat sopping wet and shivering.”
“Do you think he’s in there?” That was a solid question, and for the first time, I allowed myself to open up and search him out. My mind couldn’t connect with him, but that didn’t mean anything, not on an island over a mile wide and a building with cement walls thicker than my thighs. But just because my mind couldn’t connect didn’t mean I couldn’t feel him. I felt him, his soul, like his was connected to my own with a bungee cord.
“He’s in there.” I looked up at the solid fortress. “Can you feel him?”
I watched her close her eyes as she concentrated, the wet hair from her ponytail sticking to her neck, and even with my night vision, it was hard to see all the details of her face through the thick layer of fog.
“He’s in there,” she finally confirmed with confidence, and fuck, I was proud of her. She might never see the wolf that was buried under her skin, but she still recognized what was important—the mate bond, the subpack, the family.
I pushed down my feelings, instead tossing my long-sleeved shirt on before handing her a small gun. It wasn’t light, but the weight of the weapon had no correlation with the damage it could do. She stared down at it, her eyes filled with questions, but I didn’t have time to answer any of them. “Aim. Shoot. You know how. I taught you myself when you were eight.”
“But—”
“Shoot first, baby. Always shoot first and ask questions later. Your safety is top priority next to Silas.”
“I don’t want to kill anyone, Vincent.” I knew she spoke the truth, but it was too late for that.
“Then you shouldn’t have tagged along. Did you think we planned a picnic?”
“I…” She paused, staring at the weapon in her hand. “I didn’t think this far ahead.”
“We need to go,” Roth broke in as I strapped on my equipment. “Their patrol will be on this side in about a minute thirty.”
Fuck, so soon? I thought we’d timed it better. Maybe we had and I’d been too caught up in Bella to realize that the moments were ticking by. But moments, no matter how small, held importance, even in situations like this.