Because no matter what he does, I will never get pregnant. Logan made sure of that.
The cruel irony of my life dawns on me suddenly and a burst of laughter escapes my lips. And once I’ve started, I can’t stop. Rokiades stares at me with obvious shock as I laugh and laugh and laugh. His men are looking at me as though I’ve gone mad.
Maybe I have. It’s not like I’d be able to tell the difference.
“Is she deranged?” I hear someone ask in a thick Greek accent.
There’s a beat of silence. Nothing except my uncontrollable laughter going on and on. What a sick joke. Damned by my savior and saved by my damnation.
“Enough!” Rokiades yells so loudly that my laughter cuts off abruptly. He glares at me with new worry. But after a moment, it clears. “It doesn’t matter what she is. As I said, all I need from her is an heir. After that, if she proves to be troublesome, I can dispose of her.”
I’m dying to tell him the flaw in his grand plan, but I keep that information to myself. Even if he discovers it eventually, at least this knowledge will buy me some time. Rokiades needs me alive.
Still, the prospect of being under his control, in his house… It makes me sick to my stomach. As does another realization stabbing me between the eyes: he’s going to try to get me pregnant.
And despite what I’ve been saying, I don’t think I’m strong enough to withstand another bout of constant rapes at the hand of another husband who’s been chosen for me without my consent.
I turn my face to the ocean. A moment ago, I was glad to still be among the living. Now, suddenly, death seems like the better alternative. Weeks or months of nightly torture at the hands of a violent, wrinkled don who wants only to hurt me, use me. No chance of a savior. No sliver of hope.
Fuck that. I’d rather be dead. At least that would be my own choice, for once in my life.
Time to take matters into my own hands.
My hands are tied behind my back, but I’m not trying to swim anyway, so I don’t really care. I dart out from between the two men flanking me and run straight for the boat’s railing. Summoning all my strength, I bend, prep, and then hurl myself over the edge.
I’m in freefall for maybe a second, though it feels much longer than that. Long enough to look back over my shoulder and see the stunned faces of the Greek soldiers looking down at me as I fall, fall, fall…
And then I hit the water with a smash like shattering glass.
It’s painful. More painful than I could have ever imagined. But not as painful as the feeling of sinking as saltwater fills my lungs at an alarming rate.
I should’ve known that dying wouldn’t be easy. My body doesn’t want to let it happen, either. Survival instincts kick in, pure panic floods my system, and I start kicking up towards the surface automatically.
I fight the urge as hard as I can. Let it happen, I’m coaxing myself. Let the water swallow you up.
Every cell in my body is arguing back. No! No! No!
It turns into a war inside myself.
Accept the pain.
No! Hunt for air.
Die.
No! Persevere.
And then it becomes a moot point. Not enough oxygen left in me to keep waging this internal struggle. Darkness swallows me up…
Nothing matters anymore.
* * *
I’m not sure how long the darkness lasts. Seconds, maybe minutes. Or hell, maybe it’s been years. I don’t know. All I know is that, when I open my eyes, I see dark sky above me. It’s so beautiful. Clear and indigo, studded with stars.
Is this heaven?
I have about three seconds of bliss before the crushing weight of pain blooms up throughout every inch of me. I want to scream, but I can’t, because there’s pressure against my lips.