Chapter 30 - Olivia

Several things happen all at once.

First, the womp, womp, womp of a helicopter becomes audible just as Byron's throwing knife buries in Zane's throat. It cuts through like he's made of wax and not skin and bones and sinew. I scream, expecting hot blood to spray over my face, but it doesn't come.

Second, Bigby tries to step forward—to do what, I'm not sure—but he slips on a patch of ice. When he lands on the boat, it's loud, and also, he seems to land on some sort of weapon, which fires, ripping through the wood on the deck and slicing into the hull.

We all stand still for a moment, suspended in time. There's a loud, but muffled boom under the vessel, like the ammo traveled through the wood and metal and detonated under the boat.

"That's not good," Bigby says.

Third, the commander says something when he sees the helicopter, flipping his hand up in the air. I can't hear it through the ringing in my ears, but whatever it is seems to piss Byron off, so he takes a running leap over the top of Bigby, tackling the old man to the ground. They tussle together while I scream again and run to Bigby, helping him get to his feet.

This boat is sinking much faster than the other one, icy water already washing over our feet, making me gasp. When I get him standing, Bigby is shivering, his massive body quaking in the wintry gusts.

"Oh Gods," I say, when I see Byron and the commander rolling toward the part of the boat that's rapidly plunging under the water. "Byron!" I shout, trying to move toward him, but Bigby reaches out, touching my arm as though in a trance.

"Look," he says, and when I glance down to my feet, where Zane's lifeless body had been just a moment before, there's a steaming white pile that looks like lard, or opaque Jell-O in its place.

"Oh, Gods !" I shriek again, just before I turn and vomit. Bigby grabs me under the armpits to keep me from sliding over the side of the boat as I retch. On the other side, Byron seems to have the upper hand on the commander, the old man pinned to the boat's deck, the water lapping under his chin, surely drenching and freezing him at the same time.

Byron's hair is slick, dripping, the wind turning his cheeks and lips raw. There's a look on his face like one I've never seen before as he wrestles with the commander, trying to get his knife close enough to the man's throat to end his life. Manic. Feral, almost.

Bigby says something, and I realize I can't hear him over the sound of the helicopter, which is even closer now. We both look up simultaneously to see Zane—Zane, who should be dead—in the pilot's seat, and—is that Maisie?

My mind goes blank when I see her there, like it can't possibly be true, but it is her riding in the passenger's seat. She drops a ladder down to us, and before I can say anything, or protest at all, Bigby hoists me up in the air, forcing me to grab onto the ladder. He waits until I start to climb, my fingers numb and yet somehow pained at the same time from the cold, before he turns back to Byron.

Bigby shouts something at him, and the two of them argue for a moment, screaming back and forth. I wish I could hear them, but the helicopter is too damn loud. When I get to the top of the ladder, Maisie and Percy grab my arms, hauling me inside, and Maisie places a pair of headphones on my head.

Veronica is lying, almost lifelessly, in the back of the helicopter, her head lolled to the side. Percy sits by her side, his hand running over her hair gently.

On the boat, it looks like Bigby is trying to convince Byron to leave the commander, but Byron continues fighting, trying to finish the job.

"Hold on," Zane says, gritting his teeth as he maneuvers the helicopter lower, even closer to the boat. "That motherfucker," he says, and we all hear him through the headset. "Doesn't know when to leave well enough alone.

When Byron gets to his feet, facing Bigby and leaving his back to the commander for a moment, the old man shifts, and my mouth falls open as I watch the transformation.

It's impossible—but he's the most enormous, scariest wolf I've ever seen. Hulking. Bigger than Bigby. Bigger than Bigby and Aris's wolves combined. Even from this distance, and through the snow that's now falling, I can see the gleam of his fangs and the saliva that drips from them. It's like I can see every single one of his rippling muscles.

I watch, helpless from the skies, as a stack of large crates starts sliding toward Bigby and Byron. The men each react to the opposite problem—Bigby trying to pull Byron away from the commander in his wolf form, and Byron trying to pull Bigby away from the crates.

Byron ! I manage to send, whatever fake Zane stuck me with, finally wearing off and opening up my mental channels. Behind you !

Byron twists, and when he sees the commander racing toward him, he and Bigby finally get on the same wavelength, leaping to the side just as the crates slide down, slamming into the commander and smashing him against the wall of the boat.

We all stare, shocked, as Bigby gets to his feet, sliding a bit on the ice before he finds purchase. Byron is limp in his arm, but Bigby makes it to the ladder, just managing to hold on to Byron and the rope at the same time.

It takes effort, but we manage to haul Byron over the side when Bigby gets to the top of the ladder. I'm sobbing and holding him to my body, trying to warm him up while Maisie patches up a cut on his forehead.

"I love you," I whisper to him, not caring that the others are here. If Byron can hear me, I just want him to hear me say it. To know that it's true, even if he never says it back. "I love you, I love you, I love you. "

With Bigby in the helicopter, it's just a bit too crowded, but the tight quarters are good for warmth as we speed back toward Rosecreek, leaving the commander smashed and surely bleeding out in the frigid waters below.