Chapter 7
The change woke me before I understood it.
It wasn't sound so much as pressure. The low thrum under the bed that had been there all night dropped half an octave and softened, and the vibration in the mattress changed. I kept my eyes closed and my breathing shallow. The two tablets were taped against my skin under the seam of my robe, a hard little ridge I could feel every time I shifted.
Adrian stood at the foot of the bed. I watched him through my lashes. He had his phone in one hand and his watch in the other, and he lifted his wrist into the warm light.
One eighteen. The numbers glowed.
He didn't say anything at first. He just stood there looking at me, then at the wooden door, then back at the porthole where the black water slid past slower now.
"Come on," he muttered to himself. Not to me.
He stepped into the narrow space by the closet and made a call. He kept his voice low but the cabin was small and the engine was quieter now.
"It's slowing," he said. "Are we on station?"
I held my breath and then forced myself to breathe again, slow and uneven.
A pause. He listened.
"No, she's out," he said. "I'm telling you she's out. Two tablets. She didn't even make it to the bathroom." Another pause. "I know we said two. I don't want her vomiting before we get there and making a mess on deck."
My stomach turned for real then, but I used it.
I made a small sound in my throat, the kind you make before you're sick, and rolled my head to the side. My hand came up to my mouth, clumsy, late. Adrian turned fast.
"Mara?"
I didn't answer. I let my eyes flutter open just enough to look unfocused and wet. I pressed the back of my hand to my lips and made another soft gagging noise.
"Hey, hey," he said, and he was beside the bed in two steps. He touched my shoulder, not to comfort, to assess how much I could move. "You okay?"
I swallowed hard and whispered, "Don't feel good."
He stared at me. I could see him calculating. If I threw up now on the bed, it would delay everything. If I was still conscious enough to feel nausea, maybe the pills hadn't taken fully. He needed me limp, not alert and sick over the rail where a crew member might see.
"I need air," I said, and my voice cracked just right. "Please. I'm gonna be sick."
Adrian's jaw tightened. He glanced back toward the door where his phone was still lit.
"Not yet," he said quietly, more to himself than to me. He lifted the phone again. "She's awake. Nausea. No, not walking. I think the dose is kicking in but it's making her sick."
The voice on the other end was too low for me to make out words, just a flat murmur.
Adrian checked his watch again. One twenty-one.
"Can we hold until two?" he said. "Same spot. You said the depth drops after the reef. How deep there?"
He listened, and then he repeated it, and that was what I needed.
"Two hundred meters off the east side of the drop," he said. "Yeah, that's deep enough no one finds her with currents like this. Okay. We hold course slow. I'll bring her up at one fifty-five. Be ready at the stern."
East side of the drop. Two hundred meters. He said it like he was confirming a dinner reservation. I fixed the words in my head and tried not to let my face change.
He ended the call and slipped the phone into the pocket of his shorts. He bent over me and smoothed the hair back from my forehead. His hand was cool.
"Mahal, listen," he said, and his voice went soft, the caring husband again. "You need some air, right? Let's get you some air. But you need to rest a little first, okay? If you stand now you'll just get dizzy."
I nodded, just a tiny movement, and let my eyes roll back slightly. I made my breathing go heavier again, as if the effort of speaking had exhausted me.
"I don't wanna move," I mumbled.
"Good," he said quickly. "Don't move. Close your eyes. I'll stay right here. Just rest. We'll go out in a little while when your stomach settles."
I let my head loll. I let my hand drop off the edge of the bed, limp. I kept my mouth slightly open. Under the robe, the edge of the tape pulled at my skin and I prayed he wouldn't pat the wrong place.
He sat on the edge of the mattress and watched me. I could feel his eyes on my face, waiting for the sedation to take me under completely. The engine stayed at that low, slow churn. We weren't stopped, we were crawling, killing time until the clock hit two and the water was deep enough.
After a minute he leaned back and exhaled, satisfied.
"That's it," he whispered. "Sleep now."
May you like
I didn't move. I counted his breaths against mine and did the math in my head. One twenty-two now. I had bought thirty-three minutes. I knew where he planned to do it, and I knew he still thought I had swallowed what he gave me.
I kept my eyes closed and pretended to drift back under, and felt the yacht ease forward toward that deep water.
