I Died a Bride, I Woke Up a Vengeance - Chapter 8: Chapter 8
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The plane ride found Angie angling to sit beside Dominick.
I didn't mind humoring her, but Dominick shut it down hard. "Knock it off, Angie. Don't start with Lynda again."
She glared daggers at me before slamming into the seat behind us with enough force to rattle the tray table.
Tourist season had bled dry, leaving the island nearly deserted—perfect for what I had in mind.
We chartered a yacht to reach the dive site. Last time around, I'd been too busy soaking up sun and salt spray to notice their little games. Not this time. I tracked their movements through the polished steel railings, my reflection warping their images like funhouse mirrors.
Right on cue, Angie seized her moment. While I pretended to admire the horizon, she went to work on a dive mask with a jagged piece of coral, sawing at the oxygen hose like a prison inmate filing through bars. Dominick kept his head down, fussing with his wetsuit zipper like it held the secrets of the universe.
"Lynda, I checked your gear for you," Angie chirped, handing me the sabotaged mask with a smile sweeter than sugar cane.
I accepted it with a nod, then passed out fresh coconuts. "Dominick, be a dear?"
Angie shoved her pre-cracked coconut at him, straw poised like a syringe. As he bent to insert it, I palmed her rigged mask and swapped it with mine.
Pre-dive, Angie laid it on thick: "I'm still such a newbie at this. Stick close to me, okay?" Her eyelashes fluttered like distressed butterflies.
I flashed shark teeth. "Try to keep up."
Dominick maintained his granite expression, but I caught the vein pulsing in his temple.
At sixteen feet, Angie struck—suddenly sinuous as a moray eel in what should've been Dominick's blind spot near the reef. The girl who tripped over flat surfaces now moved with lethal precision, twisting to rip at my air hose.
Only it didn't snap. Didn't even strain.
Her confusion lasted exactly two heartbeats—long enough for me to seize her hose and wrench. The telltale silver bubbles erupted like a shaken soda can.
Angie's scream dissolved into choking as I torpedoed upward, leaving her flailing in the darkening blue.
Dominick's head whipped toward me as I breached the surface. "Where's Angie?"
I peeled off my mask slowly, saltwater stinging my eyes. "Saw something shiny and wandered off." My voice could've flash-frozen the Caribbean.
The color drained from his face. He plunged back under just as Zoya picked up my call.
Seven minutes. That's how long it took him to drag Angie's limp form ashore. Funny—in my first life, he couldn't manage the same for me in ten.
The island clinic smelled of antiseptic and despair. The doctor's prognosis landed like a depth charge: "Prolonged oxygen deprivation. Possible permanent neural damage."
Dominick cradled Angie's head like a broken doll. "We need medevac now!" His composure had shattered like the coral he'd stood on while I drowned.
"Already on it," I murmured, stepping into the hallway where the weather app glowed on my phone. A tropical depression was forming offshore.
My smile widened with the gathering storm.
I didn't mind humoring her, but Dominick shut it down hard. "Knock it off, Angie. Don't start with Lynda again."
She glared daggers at me before slamming into the seat behind us with enough force to rattle the tray table.
Tourist season had bled dry, leaving the island nearly deserted—perfect for what I had in mind.
We chartered a yacht to reach the dive site. Last time around, I'd been too busy soaking up sun and salt spray to notice their little games. Not this time. I tracked their movements through the polished steel railings, my reflection warping their images like funhouse mirrors.
Right on cue, Angie seized her moment. While I pretended to admire the horizon, she went to work on a dive mask with a jagged piece of coral, sawing at the oxygen hose like a prison inmate filing through bars. Dominick kept his head down, fussing with his wetsuit zipper like it held the secrets of the universe.
"Lynda, I checked your gear for you," Angie chirped, handing me the sabotaged mask with a smile sweeter than sugar cane.
I accepted it with a nod, then passed out fresh coconuts. "Dominick, be a dear?"
Angie shoved her pre-cracked coconut at him, straw poised like a syringe. As he bent to insert it, I palmed her rigged mask and swapped it with mine.
Pre-dive, Angie laid it on thick: "I'm still such a newbie at this. Stick close to me, okay?" Her eyelashes fluttered like distressed butterflies.
I flashed shark teeth. "Try to keep up."
Dominick maintained his granite expression, but I caught the vein pulsing in his temple.
At sixteen feet, Angie struck—suddenly sinuous as a moray eel in what should've been Dominick's blind spot near the reef. The girl who tripped over flat surfaces now moved with lethal precision, twisting to rip at my air hose.
Only it didn't snap. Didn't even strain.
Her confusion lasted exactly two heartbeats—long enough for me to seize her hose and wrench. The telltale silver bubbles erupted like a shaken soda can.
Angie's scream dissolved into choking as I torpedoed upward, leaving her flailing in the darkening blue.
Dominick's head whipped toward me as I breached the surface. "Where's Angie?"
I peeled off my mask slowly, saltwater stinging my eyes. "Saw something shiny and wandered off." My voice could've flash-frozen the Caribbean.
The color drained from his face. He plunged back under just as Zoya picked up my call.
Seven minutes. That's how long it took him to drag Angie's limp form ashore. Funny—in my first life, he couldn't manage the same for me in ten.
The island clinic smelled of antiseptic and despair. The doctor's prognosis landed like a depth charge: "Prolonged oxygen deprivation. Possible permanent neural damage."
Dominick cradled Angie's head like a broken doll. "We need medevac now!" His composure had shattered like the coral he'd stood on while I drowned.
"Already on it," I murmured, stepping into the hallway where the weather app glowed on my phone. A tropical depression was forming offshore.
My smile widened with the gathering storm.
End of I Died a Bride, I Woke Up a Vengeance Chapter 8. Continue reading Chapter 9 or return to I Died a Bride, I Woke Up a Vengeance book page.