The sea was calm one moment and merciless the next.
Darcy kicked upward, lungs burning. His oxygen mask had been given to Micah, leaving him with nothing to breathe. He tried to exhale, bubbles spilling from his mouth as he swam toward the surface. His chest ached like it might split in two, his body felt heavy, weighted down by Micah's limp figure in his hold.
Finally breaking the surface, Darcy dragged Micah toward the boat, gasping. "Hold on," he muttered, voice shaking with exhaustion as he kept Micah's head above water. "Just… stay with me."
Micah's head lolled, unresponsive. His mask had fogged, eyes shut tight.
"Shit," Darcy cursed, pushing harder through the waves until they reached the side of the boat. He hooked one arm around the ladder, the other wrapped Micah's limp torso. "Help! Hey!" he shouted, voice breaking. "Pull him up!"
