Chapter 14
Luna White never expected Clara White to be so strong.
A violent shove sent her tumbling toward the water like a broken kite. The wind howled in her ears, her heart pounding as if trying to escape her chest.
Splash!
The icy water swallowed her whole. The cold stabbed into every pore, the pressure crushing her ribs like a hammer. She thrashed, but her limbs felt leaden.
Am I dying? Her consciousness dimmed.
The darkness of the depths swallowed the dam's outline. Her lungs burned, memories of her past life flashing before her.
Then—a shadow cut through the water.
Andrew Smith had been training his recruits at the base of the dam. Summer flood drills were routine, but today, disaster struck.
"Someone fell in!" His pupils contracted.
The figure plunged like a leaf, vanishing into the churning current.
"All units, move!"
Twenty young men dove in unison. Andrew shot forward like a swordfish, straight for the impact point.
Visibility was near zero. On his third resurface, he finally glimpsed a pale flutter of fabric.
Luna felt iron arms lock around her. Through the haze, she saw frantic eyes, short hair drifting like seaweed.
Whoosh—
The moment they broke the surface, darkness claimed her.
Chaos erupted onshore. Mayor George Clark arrived with villagers just as Andrew hauled the girl onto the bank.
"She's not breathing!" someone screamed.
Andrew dropped to his knees in the mud, pounding on her back. Her face was ghostly pale, lips tinged violet, strands of riverweed clinging to her skin.
"Back up!" He barked at the gawkers.
Fingers probed her icy mouth, clearing the blockage. He scanned the crowd. "She needs CPR. Any female volunteers—?"
The crowd retreated as one.
"I'll do it." Without hesitation, he pinched her nose and bent down.
"Good heavens!" A woman peeked through her fingers.
After a dozen breaths, Luna convulsed, coughing up bloody water. Her chest finally rose.
"She's alive!" George mopped his brow.
When Luna opened her eyes, a sharply angled face filled her vision. Water dripped from his jawline onto her cheek—scalding despite the chill.
"Easy." His voice was rough. "Andrew Smith."
Then she remembered—the name from her past life's newspapers. The youngest flood-control hero. Now, his camouflage dripped onto her, refracting sunlight like scattered gems.