Sent Rising (Dove Strong) by Lorence Erin

Author:Lorence, Erin [Lorence, Erin]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: Clean and Wholesome Novels, Dystopian Young Adult fiction, Religion and Spirituality, Christian Fiction, Epic Fantasy, inspirational fiction
ISBN: 9781522302186
Publisher: Pelican Book Group
Published: 2019-08-15T16:00:00+00:00

25

Rebecca. Dead.

His hands, free of their shackle, caught my arms and steadied me against the swell.

“Sorry. I...I know. It’s horrible. Big time horrible.” His whispers in my ear came to me from far away.

Trinity didn’t bother to whisper. “Rebecca’s dead? Who’s she?”

Wolfe held on to me as if aware I might sink beneath the freezing water if he let go.

“She was Dove’s good friend. And mine. A really smart chic who used words like they were a magic wand. Like, if she were here now, she’d go right up to those guards and tell them to put down their weapons and let us go. And they would.”

“Oh. She must be the girl I was keeping my eyes peeled for in Portland.”

A coldness worse than the ocean’s ice numbed me so I struggled to move my lips. “How...how do...you know she’s...gone?”

“Reed asked Stone if he’d taken care of Dove’s well-spoken city rat for good. Stone looked him in the eyes and answered. He said ‘yes,’ Dove. And he was pale and shaky when he said it. Sick.”

I’d only seen Stone look weak once—when dying from an infected bullet wound. But killing an old friend might also turn his stomach. So then, Wolfe told the truth. Rebecca was gone and had left this earth to join Gran in Heaven.

I pulled away.

I sensed Satan’s laughter as water lapped around my chest and attempted to lift me off my feet. My Enemy sent another wave, more powerful. Pulling me westward toward the deep ocean. I began to shake.

Another horrible truth hit me. Reed absolutely wasn’t coming back to this cave.

He had said he would return before high tide to transfer us to a new location. Yet Reed was a liar. A killer and a liar. He had lied, and Trinity, Wolfe, and I were going to die. Not from drowning, but from the cold. From hypothermia.

I put my taped wrists against Wolfe’s shivering chest and shoved. “You’re free. Go! Swim away. Trinity and I can join Rebecca, but you can’t. Go home to your grandma and Jezebel.”

Trinity plowed forward in a clumsy swish. “You really think the others aren’t coming back to relocate us?”

“He killed Rebecca. Why not me? And you? And Wolfe?”

Silence.

Wolfe charged through the swells, dragging me with him. He pressed my hands and forearms against the barnacles, then dragged my wrists against their roughness. Up, down. Up, down. Stings raked across my half-dead skin.

“Hold ’em up.” He lifted my arms off the rocks, and his hands enveloped the backs of mine. He yanked. And yanked again, the muscles in his arms flexing as if my wrists were two halves of a stubborn walnut he wanted to force apart.

Rip. The worn area of tape became a separation.

He dropped my free hands and glared down at me. “No one in this cave is hanging out with Rebecca tonight. You understand? Trinity. It’s your turn.”

Before the water eased my arms’ sting, Trinity stood rubbing her wrists next to me.

Wolfe bent over us, his face transformed by the black, downward slash of his brow.

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