For years, I paid my parents’ bills, bought their groceries, and watched them put my spoiled sister first, so when they canceled my 25th birthday for her latest meltdown, I simply smiled, left my house key on the pillow, and let them discover what life looked like without me. / Chapter 47 / 80

Chapter 47 - The Sinking Lantern

"For the family," I repeated. The words felt completely dead on my tongue.

I pulled my pocketknife from my jeans, flicked open the blade, and slashed through the yellow polypropylene ropes binding Eleanor’s wrists and shoulders. The synthetic fibers parted with a dull hiss.

Eleanor collapsed forward into the black, oily water, gasping, her limbs stiff and unresponsive.

"Can you walk?" I demanded, grabbing her under the armpits and hauling her upright.

"My leg..." she groaned, her voice cracking. "The cold... I can't feel my foot..."

"You walk, or you drown," I said, cold as the sea water rising around our shins. "Lean on me. Now."

I grabbed the leather briefcase containing my stolen life with one hand, hooked my arm under Eleanor’s shoulder with the other, and dragged her toward the doorway. Behind us, Christian Sterling was pulling himself up by the iron radio bench, his face gray with shock and blood loss, his breathing wet and labored.

"You won't... make it to Oakton, Clara..." he wheezed, his teeth stained with crimson. "The syndicate... already has men... at the house..."

"Then I'll deal with them there," I said without stopping.

We burst out onto the listing deck of the *Ambrose Shoal*.

The fog was tearing apart in shreds, driven by a rising gale that whipped the salt spray into stinging needles against my skin. The lightship was dead in the water, caught in the ferocious rip-tide of the shoal, drifting rapidly toward the white, foaming fury of the outer sandbar. Every ten seconds, her keel struck the sandy bottom with a shuddering *thump* that vibrated through the iron plates, loosening rivets that popped like pistol shots into the dark.

Julian was at the bulwark, bracing himself against the rail, holding the line to the skiff with both hands.

"Hannah’s in the boat!" he roared against the wind, his eyes finding mine through the mist. "Pass the old woman down! Clara, the ladder is tearing loose!"

I hauled Eleanor to the rail. The sea below was a swirling cauldron of black swell and white froth. The skiff was tossing wildly six feet below the lightship’s hull, Hannah huddled in the bottom boards, clutching the thwart and screaming in terror.

"I can't!" Eleanor cried, shrinking back from the drop, her fingers digging into my arm like talons. "I can't go down that! I’ll fall! Clara, hold me!"

"You jump, or you die here, Eleanor!" I yelled into her ear. "Julian! Catch her!"

I didn't give her a choice. With a final, furious heave born of twenty-five years of carrying her weight, I shoved Eleanor Vance over the bulwark.

She screamed as she fell through the dark. Julian lunged, catching her by the collar of her wool coat as she hit the gunwale of the skiff, the small boat rocking violently, shipping water over the port side before righting itself. Julian shoved her down into the bilge next to Hannah, then looked up at me.

"Clara! The bag! Throw the bag and jump!"

I threw the leather briefcase down. It landed with a heavy slap against the wooden floorboards.

Then I swung my leg over the rusted rail.

Before my boot could find the first rung of the pilot ladder, a hand clamped around my ankle like an iron vise.

I slipped, my chest slamming hard against the wet iron bulwark. The breath exploded from my lungs in a sharp gasp. I twisted around, clawing at the rail.

Christian Sterling was on his knees behind me, his cashmere coat soaked in black bilge water, his bleeding face twisted into a mask of pure, vindictive madness. He had crawled out of the deckhouse on his belly, leaving a trail of dark blood across the wet planks.

"You don't get to walk away, Clara," he snarled, digging his fingernails into my skin through my jeans, pulling me backward toward the open hatch of the engine room. "Nobody walks away from this family!"

The lightship hit the shoal again.

A monstrous grinding screech tore through the hull as the bottom plates ripped open on the sandbar. The ship tipped violently to a forty-five-degree angle.