I wanted to tell him not to put himself in harm’s way.

To make him listen and agree not to be stupid.

But he let me go and stared out the window, looking far below where his islands were tiny gemstones and the jewellery thief was here to steal them.

The mercenary who’d clambered into the cabin last hadn’t closed the door. Wind whipped into the space, cooler up here than down below. My aches from elixir and my bruises from palpitations all ratcheted up my rapidly climbing worries.

Something is coming.

I could feel it.

Could feel the cloak of fate. Hear the inching disaster.

I just couldn’t tell who would be the survivors—us or Drake.

My jumping thoughts collided around my head.

I leapt a mile as Drake planted his hand on my knee, squeezing cruelly from his seat across the cabin.

Sully instantly snatched his touch away, leaving Drake’s fingernails burning tracks in my skin. “Don’t fucking touch her.” Sully’s nostrils flared, and his entire presence bellowed in the cabin, seething with challenge. “Our truce will be over if you do.”

There was nothing weak about him. Nothing more terrifying than a beast backed into a corner.

I’d never been more afraid of him or more proud.

His attention hadn’t been on the vista outside, after all. His mind turned inward, problem-solving our predicament.

Drake sneered over the din of rotor blades.

The aura of anticipation and the sick taste of prophecy continued filling the small space. A trickle, a torrent, a gush of tense calamity. The lashing wind only made the waiting worse. It howled and clawed, my hair turned into live vines, slipping around my shoulders and dancing in the space above me. My skin erupted with goosebumps. My yellow shirt flapped around my body.

After playing the role of a goddess, I actually felt like one.

I stupidly bought into the illusion that I was more than human.

That I could feel fate stretching its powers and reaching for us over the sea.

My fingertips tingled with sick magic as I pressed them together. My stomach fluttered as if I’d swallowed a thousand hummingbirds. My rage at Drake’s entrapment and my temper at not seeing a way free caused the strangest kind of power to arch and spark in my blood.

Maybe it was all a fantasy.

Perhaps elixir still played havoc with my nervous system.

Maybe all people facing imminent death felt otherworldly, ready to transform mortal shells and spread their wings to a new existence.

Perhaps it was all in my head and the hissing, heating awareness, the tightening, tingling anticipation meant nothing was going to happen.

So how could I explain the three things that happened almost as if I’d foreseen them?

How could I predict that something was going to happen?

How could I have known that in the sky above Sully’s paradise, one of us was going to die?

My heart galloped.

The world seemed to slow.

And the three things happened in quick succession.

One, the flight path flew us over Serigala.

Sully sucked in a murderous growl, his fury overflowing at the desecrated, blackened wasteland below. The soil stained with blood and rubble, workers and locals still picking over the refuse, doing what they could to salvage such a nightmare.

Two, the police finally arrived.

Far too late and far too below us. I caught sight of flashing lights and decaled boats racing with white water to our aid.

And three, Sully reached his threshold.

Serigala’s destruction and the police’s useless arrival poured gasoline on a wildfire he couldn’t control. I braced myself as he launched from the seat and threw himself at the guard sitting opposite with his gun resting warningly on his knee.

One second to punch him. Another second to steal his gun. A final second to pull the trigger and switch man to corpse, his cadaver thumping heavily at our feet.

For a moment, the world paused.

The rotor blades seemed to quieten. The sensation of doom stopped running its evil fingers down my skin.

But then, everything I’d been afraid of happened.

Drake yelled.

Sully attacked another mercenary.

The pilots swooped left, snatching the floor from beneath Sully’s feet, sending him sprawling into the fuselage by the open door.

“Look out!” My voice tore over my tongue.

“Stop!” Drake bellowed as the mercenary grappled with Sully.

A gun went off.

A bullet flew from weapon to flesh.

Sully’s eyes widened.

The mercenary’s gaze narrowed.

I would never know who was shot because fate once again became my enemy.

The helicopter swerved.

And my whole world tripped out the open, wind-lashing door.

“NO!”

I bolted to my feet.

I slammed to my knees as Sully fell.

And fell.

And fell.

“No!!!”

The mercenary plummeted to the sea.

Sully crashed toward his ocean.

Our eyes snagged and locked.

One second.

Two second.

Three.

And then...he was gone.

His body swallowed by a splash.

The blue wetness of his empire swallowing him whole.

Drake slammed on the cockpit partition. “Man overboard!”

I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t look away.

I stared at that ocean with every atom of myself.

I willed Sully to appear.

I dreamed and prayed and wished and begged.

But nothing.

No arms reaching for the surface.

No man swimming from the depths.

Just an empty ocean licking its lips after enjoying a snack from above.

The police boats added speed, chasing to Sully’s and the mercenary’s entry.

Loud hailers did their best to scream above the roar of mechanical blades. Threats and warnings, typical police menace to yank the helicopter to heel.

Drake snarled and punched the fuselage. “Fuck!”

A gun whistled from below.

“They’re firing at us!” The pilots added speed to the rotors, shooting us out of reach. “The police fuckers are firing at us!”

Twice I’d been shot at in a helicopter.

Only once did I hope they’d succeed.

I wanted to be down there.

I need to know.

Crawling closer to the open door, I held my breath to jump.

I closed my eyes.

I pushed off.

But savage hands wrenched me back. “You’re not fucking going anywhere.” Drake held me tight, shoving me into the remaining mercenary’s control. He raked both hands through his hair, anger and greed covering him. “Fuck!”

He wasn’t afraid of his brother’s demise. He was afraid that it’d happened before he’d taken what he wanted. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“We can still get the four hundred vials already cooked,” the mercenary yelled. “We can’t go back. The police—”

Another bullet lodged in the fuselage.

“Fuuuucccckkkk!” Drake stomped his foot like a spoiled brat.

“We have a goddess.” The man held me tight as I fought. “She’ll know how to load Euphoria. The last one did. You’ve got what you need, Sinclair. Let’s go.”

Drake glared at me. He pondered. He agreed. “Fine. Get us out of here.”

The pilots added power.