“Yes.”
I screamed it.
“You can WALK?”
“Elena!”
“How long?”
“Long enough that this is going to become a very unpleasant family conversation.”
He reached into a waterproof pouch attached beneath the chair and pulled out a compact rescue cutter.
I stared.
“How long?”
“Fourteen years.”
My mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
“That’s impossible.”
“I know how it sounds.”
“You let me redesign two houses for you.”
“I know.”
“I carried you up stairs.”
“I know.”
“I threatened a restaurant manager because their ramp was blocked.”
“That one was justified.”
“Noah!”
The SUV shifted deeper.
He grabbed my shoulder.
“You can be furious after we survive.”
Fair.
He cut through the wire around my buckle.
Once.
Twice.
The final strand snapped.
The belt released.
By then water had nearly reached my chest.
Noah moved toward the rear hatch.
“Wait until the pressure equalizes.”
“You sound extremely prepared for this.”
“I am.”
That answer frightened me almost as much as Adrian.
When water filled most of the cabin, Noah forced open the rear door.
We went under.
The current pulled hard.
Noah grabbed my coat and dragged me toward a line of concrete pylons supporting an abandoned riverside pumping station.
Instead of swimming toward the bank where Adrian and Vanessa waited, he pulled me downstream.
There was a steel maintenance ladder behind one pylon.
