Chapter 32 Hold Your Breath
The cold water was a shock to Grace's system, but it did nothing to numb the agony radiating from her broken leg. She surfaced, gasping and sputtering, her arms flailing as she tried to grab onto something, anything that might save her.
But there was nothing. Just endless water rushing past, pulling her along with merciless force.
Grace's fingers scraped against rocks beneath the surface, too slippery to hold. She tried to kick, tried to propel herself toward the shore she could barely see through the spray, but her broken leg sent white-hot bolts of pain shooting through her entire body every time she moved it.
The roar in her ears was getting louder.
At first, Grace thought it was just the sound of her own blood rushing, her own panic overwhelming her senses. But then she realized with growing horror that it was the river itself. The sound of water falling, crashing, echoing.
A waterfall.
The current was dragging her toward a waterfall.
‘No. No, please, no!’
Grace's desperation doubled. She clawed at the water, reached for anything that might slow her momentum, her movements becoming more frantic and less coordinated as terror took over.
Her hand brushed against something solid and she lunged for it, her fingers closing around what felt like a branch or root extending into the water. She gripped it with both hands, her whole body straining against the current.
For one blessed moment, she thought she'd made it. Thought she'd found her anchor.
Then the current surged, yanking her forward with renewed force. Her grip faltered, her wet hands sliding along the branch, and her injured leg swung around and slammed hard into a submerged rock.
The pain was beyond anything Grace had experienced. Something in her leg gave way with a sickening crack, it was a sensation that was very wrong in a way that made her entire body recoil. She screamed, the sound turning into a choked gurgle as water rushed into her open mouth.
She went under, not once, not twice. But Grace fought her way back to the surface each time, sobbing and choking, her leg was now completely useless. It hung at an angle that made her stomach turn when she glimpsed it through the churning water. It wasn’t just broken anymore, it was dislocated, fractured, or maybe both. She couldn't tell and it didn't matter because she couldn't move it at all.
The roar of the waterfall was deafening now.
Grace could see where the river ended, where the water simply dropped away into nothing. She was maybe fifteen feet from the edge, and the current was pulling her faster with every second.
She tried to swim with just her arms and her good leg, tried to angle herself toward the shore, but her body wouldn't cooperate. Her arms felt like lead, it was heavy and sluggish from exhaustion and blood loss. The cuts covering her body from crashing through that old hag's window and her run through the woods were still bleeding, turning the water around her pink.
Grace saw her school uniform shirt floating some distance away from her, it was beyond shredded, luckily she still had the half top she always wore beneath her shirt along with her torn skirt. And amongst all these problems, that terrible heat continued to pulse through her veins, making her dizzy and disoriented even as the cold water tried to freeze her.
‘I'm going to die.’
The thought came with startling clarity. She didn’t panic this time, but had a kind of resigned understanding. She was going to go over that waterfall and the fall would kill her, or if it didn't, she'd drown in the pool below because she couldn't swim anymore.
This was how Grace Ainsley's story ended. Eighteen years old and drowning in some nameless river because she'd been stupid enough to trust strangers, because she'd been born something she didn't even know she was, because the universe apparently had decided she didn't deserve to live.
Pathetic.
Grace's mind raced even as her body failed, thoughts tumbling over each other faster than the current pulling her to her death.
She should have talked to Maddox, should’ve let him explain before she'd written him off completely. He'd been her best friend since they were little, had been there through scraped knees and failed tests and everything. He'd held her hand at her grandmother's funeral, had stayed up with her all night when she'd had the flu, and had taught her how to change a tire when she wasn’t even interested in learning.
And she'd just discarded him. Thrown away years of friendship without even giving him a chance to explain his side of the story.
What if her father had manipulated him? What if there was more to it that Grace didn't understand? She'd never know now. Would die without knowing, without giving him that chance.
‘I'm sorry, Maddox.’
And her parents. How had they hidden this from her? That she was a werewolf, that this entire supernatural world existed right alongside the normal one, that she'd been part of it her whole life without knowing. Were they werewolves too? Grace didn’t know much but she suspected werewolves didn’t suffer from cancer.
But if she was a werewolf like the others, why had Enzo kept calling her little witch? What did that mean? Could someone be both? Were there rules to this world she'd never get to learn?
The absurdity of it almost made Grace laugh despite the water choking her. Here she was, seconds from death, and she was still trying to understand the supernatural politics of a world she'd only discovered existed a few hours ago.
And Molly. God, Molly.
Grace's mind conjured an image of her, all dramatic gestures and fierce loyalty and that sharp wit that could cut or comfort depending on what Grace needed. She wondered if Molly moved with her parents or if she had fought tooth and nail to stay behind.
Was she going crazy right now wondering where Grace was? Or was she completely oblivious, living her normal life, doing homework and texting boys, and planning what movie they'd see this weekend? Grace highly doubted that. Molly would definitely be worried.
Grace almost laughed at the thought, a sound that came out as more water choking her.
‘I'm sorry, Molly. I'm so sorry.’
The edge of the waterfall was right there. Grace could see it, could see the way the water just disappeared into the mist and spray. Five feet. Maybe less.
She extended her hand anyway.
It was a pointless gesture. She knew that. There was no one out here in the middle of nowhere, no one who could reach her in time, no miraculous rescue coming.
But Grace reached out anyway, her arm stretching toward the shore she could barely see now. Did that sleaze of a man follow her to the river? Or he and that old woman thought she had drowned to her death.
Well, they would soon be right anyway.
Grace closed her eyes as she made a grabbing motion towards the shore and suddenly, miraculously, a hand grabbed hers.
Grace's eyes flew open wide, so wide it hurt. Water streamed over her face, into her eyes, but she blinked frantically, trying to see through the blur and the spray and the darkness.
The hand gripping hers was strong, so strong, with a warmth that it almost cut through the cold numbing her body. It pulled her up and back, fighting against the current with a force that seemed impossible.
Grace followed that hand up to an arm, to a shoulder, to a face she knew better than her own.
Maddox.
‘Maddox?’
Grace's brain couldn't process it. Couldn't understand how he was here, how he'd found her, how he'd appeared at the exact moment between her and death. Was she hallucinating? Did her brain conjure him up somehow?
But he was there, his face set with grim determination, his jaw clenched with effort and his other arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her against his chest with such force it knocked what little air she had from her lungs.
Grace coughed violently, water spewing from her mouth and nose. She gasped and choked and coughed again, her body trying desperately to expel the river from her lungs while simultaneously trying to drag in air.
"I've got you," Maddox said, his voice rough and strained with exertion, hovering just beside her. "I've got you, Grace."
Grace tried to respond, tried to ask how and why and what are you doing here, but all that came out was more coughing and a pathetic whimpering sound as her broken leg bumped against something solid. Probably Maddox's leg, the pain was blinding.
Maddox began swimming. Grace could feel the powerful strokes of his free arm, could feel the way his legs kicked beneath them, fighting the current that wanted to drag them both over the edge.
Where was he taking them? They were still in the river, still being pulled toward the waterfall. Grace could feel it, could feel the way the current intensified as they got closer to the edge.
Then she saw it through the spray and her water-blurred vision. A large stone jutting up from the river, maybe eight feet from where the water dropped away into nothing. It was their only chance, the only solid thing between them and the falls.
Maddox was angling toward it, using every ounce of his strength to fight the current's relentless pull. Grace tried to help, tried to kick with her good leg, but the movement sent such intense pain radiating from her injured leg that black spots danced across her vision.
"Don't move," Maddox gasped out. "Just hold on."
Grace wrapped her arms around his neck, clinging to him so fiercely.
They reached the stone and Maddox hauled them both onto its surface with a strength that seemed impossible. The stone was barely big enough for two people, slick and wet with spray, but it was solid and stable and Grace collapsed onto it with a sob of relief.
For one moment, just one blessed moment, Grace thought they were safe.
Then she looked up and saw Maddox's face, saw the grim determination there, and all the questions suddenly started rushing back.
"Mad," Grace gasped out between coughs, her voice hoarse and ragged. "How did you—"
"Hold your breath," Maddox interrupted.
Grace blinked, confused. "What?"
Maddox was already moving, already adjusting his grip on her, pulling her back into his arms. His expression was fierce, almost frightening in its intensity.
"Hold your breath, Grace," he repeated, and there was something in his voice that made Grace's blood go cold. "Trust me."
"Mad—"
She didn't get to finish the question. Before Grace could protest, before she could ask what he meant, before she could do anything at all, Maddox picked her up and dove straight into the waterfall.
Grace barely managed to suck in a breath, her lungs still burning from all the water she'd inhaled earlier.
Then they were falling, the sensation of free fall was unlike anything Grace had ever experienced.