A pole on the floor caught her eye. She picked it up and gripped it like a bat. Even though she didn’t know what its real purpose was, the heat inside her only wanted to do one thing. With a scream, she smashed the wheelhouse windows and beat the walls until the pole was bent and eventually broke in half. If only she could kill Montu again. And again. And again.
She threw the broken piece to the side, ignoring the metallic clatter as it rolled across the deck. Rage blinded her as she tipped over the white containers. Fury gave her savage strength as she threw and ripped the contents of the containers, not caring what it was.
Then she found the backpack.
Clutching it to her chest, she stood at the helm and surveyed the damage she’d done. The boat rocked gently, the only sound tiny splashes lapping against the sides. Despite taking in a series of deep, wheezing breaths, her knees gave out. From her spot on the deck, she stared at the red streaks.
“Xander,” she cried, still hugging the backpack. “Come back. Please. Just come back—” Her voice cracked as the sobs took over again.
What was she going to do? She couldn’t go on like this, not with her heart shattered. All she wanted was to disappear. Anything to make this pain stop. She could turn herself in and ask the agents to end it for her—though she’d probably just get thrown into a prison cell for the rest of her life. But how could she give up when Xander had risked everything to prevent that? She let out a soft whimper and buried her face in her palms. She could almost hear his voice.
Keep going. Finish it. Don’t let him win. Put a bullet in him. Do it for me.
She curled her fingers into fists and lowered them. This was all Faris’s fault. He set off that bomb. He decided to make her life miserable. He made the order to kill off the one person who meant the world to her. Her hero. Her lifeline. Her everything. And now Xander was gone. The emptiness was overwhelming, like her chest was being crushed. Her eyes slid shut and the world went dark. If only it would just stay that way.
• • •
A squawk met her ears. She took in a shuddering breath, opened her eyes again, and propped herself on her elbows. A seagull perched on the railing, scanning the disarray strewn across the deck with its beady eyes. It tilted its head, squawked again, and flew away.
Leila sat for a moment. Where did that come from? There must be land nearby. She focused on the deep blue horizon that cut across the light blue sky until her gaze landed on a black pyramid-shaped speck. Her heart pounded. That must be it. Faris’s island. Her mother, brother, and Soliman were all within reach. That was if her hunch was correct and they were on the island.
Images of Xander’s final moment flashed through her mind. The look of shock frozen on his face just before he disappeared beneath the waves. He’d given up everything to help her and Soliman. Literally everything.
She had to go to the island and finish it for Xander—even if it meant joining him on the other side. Yes, that’s what she’d do. She’d finish this now. She’d give Faris the same treatment she gave Montu. He deserved pain, he deserved to suffer. He deserved to die.
With her mind made up, she stood and, carrying the backpack, marched back into the wheelhouse. She had never learned to drive a boat before, but at least knew how to start the thing.
She set the backpack on the table and paused, unable to take her eyes off it. It didn’t feel right to let go and put it aside, but she would come back to it later. She tore her gaze from it, then slid into the seat behind the wheel. After examining the buttons and levers on the dashboard, she turned the key and the motor rumbled to life.
Now, to move forward… She placed a palm on the throttle and eased it back, coaxing the boat into a slow pace. Encouraged, she slowly pushed it farther back and picked up speed until the vessel went as fast as she was comfortable with. Not as fast as they had been going before, but it was moving along nicely. The wheel felt light in her hands and the boat reacted to each slight turn. She could do this. She could still get on the island. She could defeat Faris. She just had to stay one step ahead of him.
You got this, Xander’s voice whispered in her ear. Her vision blurred. Blinking through the tears, she tightened her grip on the wheel and clenched her teeth, heading onward, straight for the black pyramid. The drone of the engine buzzed in her ears. A large wave crashed against the side of the boat. She held the wheel steady as the boat rocked, water splashing across the deck, washing away the bloodstains. Her heart pounded so fiercely, she felt like she would be sick. She swallowed back the feeling. There was no time for fear or doubt. This was it.
The island grew larger as she neared. Any intricate details were too difficult to distinguish in the dimming light. Only its silhouette could be made out—white rock forming a single jagged peak that pointed at a deep blue sky. Was it a coincidence that Faris just so happened to find himself an island that looked like a pharaoh’s tomb?
She scowled, then cut the engine, not wanting to get too close yet. With some light still on the horizon behind her, there was still a chance she could be seen. She slipped out of the wheelhouse and walked to the bow. The anchor lay on the floor, its chain curled beneath it.
With a grunt, she picked up the iron hook and, making sure her feet and legs weren’t tangled in the chain, she lowered it over the side, then let it drop. It plunged into the water, pulling the chain in after it, and disappeared into the blue void beneath her. The chain tightened, and the boat tugged to a stop.
After a quick search through the wheelhouse, she found a pair of binoculars and laid on her stomach on the bow. Unsure what she should be looking for, she studied the island through the lens. No people on the top, no lights, no openings, no movement. She chewed on her bottom lip. Was this the right place?
Back in the wheelhouse, she checked the maps and sketches. Yes, it should be the right place. But now what? She searched the deck and collected the scuba gear she had thrown around, picking out everything she would need for the dive. She couldn’t go out yet. It was still too light out, and she’d easily be spotted. She’d wait a few hours, well into the night, then she’d begin her mission.
If she made it that long…
Without anything to distract her until then, she sat on the deck, the backpack on her lap. Swallowing against the tightness in her throat, she slowly unzipped the top and peered inside. The collection of passports lay near the top, along with three half-empty water bottles.
Underneath, she found a wadded-up sweater. Unable to breathe, she pulled the sweater out and cried into it, Xander’s scent filling her nose.
The hours ticked by. Her throat and eyes ached, and nausea and dizziness from the concussion came and went. Wishing for Xander’s warmth, she rubbed the sweater between her fingers, another stray tear splattering on the sleeve. What was she going to do without him?
Keep going, love.
The sky had turned black with a smattering of stars. Eventually, Leila pushed herself up and shuffled into the wheelhouse, hugging the sweater to her chest. She glanced over the mess—the shattered glass all over the floor, the blood splatters—and flashes of panic rushed back to her in tight, quick breaths. But Montu was no longer there; she had nothing to worry about. Still, it took her a moment to find the strength to take another step forward.
She rifled through the supplies, curious if there was anything she might be able to use on her mission. Her janbiya, a length of rope, fishing string, and a few other odds and ends went into a dry bag she found in the wheelhouse. She dunked it in the water for a minute, testing to see how waterproof it was. When she brought it back out, everything dripped.
Well, guess I won’t bother taking the guns.
Despite her lack of appetite, she snapped a cracker in half and nibbled on the edge. It stuck to the roof of her mouth and tasted like cardboard, but it would keep her blood sugar up. Xander would have made her eat something first. The last thing she needed was to sneak onto the island in a weakened state.
A glance at the clock told her it was nearing one in the morning—the Medjay’s favorite time to begin a heist. She’d spent enough time puttering around the boat, anyway. She squirmed into one of the wetsuits and reminded herself of Montu’s instructions once more. That monster had at least been good for one thing. She looked over each piece of equipment, recalling its name and purpose.
She could do this. For Xander.
Peering through the binoculars, she studied the island. There was nothing to see through the lenses but a few twinkling lights in a blanket of pitch blackness. With the cover of night on her side, she pulled the anchor back onto the deck, turned the boat on again, and spluttered toward the island. She didn’t dare turn on any lights—the soft green glow from the radar would have to suffice. With an eye on the compass, she navigated the boat to the southern side, where Pete had said the underwater cave could be found.
Keeping a safe distance from the cliff, she cut the engine and dropped the anchor again. Another look through the binoculars showed no lights except for the nebulous star formations above. At least there weren’t any on this part of the island. She checked again to make sure she was at the right spot. Sure enough, everything matched up. What was she waiting for, then?
For one last time, she buried her face into Xander’s sweater and drew in a long, deep breath through her nose. With a final stroke with her fingertips, she laid the garment on the driver’s seat, smoothed out the wrinkles, then padded across the deck and sat on the bow, her feet dangling over the sleepy black waves.
Hands shaking, she pulled on flippers, fitted goggles over her face, and shrugged the oxygen canisters over her shoulders. She grabbed her bag of supplies and tied it around her waist.
Technically, she was ready. But Xander should be here at her side. Another wave of grief enveloped her.
“Go. Just go,” she sobbed with shaking shoulders. Stopping for any amount of time only made it worse and it wouldn’t bring Xander back, either.
She filled her lungs as much as she could, stuck the mouthpiece between her lips, then slipped off the side of the boat into the silky black water below.
