Sofia's POV
The world was a cold, blue nightmare.
Water smashed into the cabin, tearing at my clothes, pulling me under.
I fought like a demon, ripping my stupid, expensive dress so I could move. I kicked, my lungs burning, and shot up toward the light.
I burst through the surface, gasping, choking on saltwater and my own failure.
And then I saw it.
The sky wasn't just sky. It was full of helicopters—big, black, private ones, not police.
And on their sides was a crest I knew from my worst nightmares: a lion and a tiger, locked in battle, with the wings of an eagle : The Fernandez family crest.
My blood ran colder than the ocean.
One helicopter hovered low, its door wide open. And there he was. Elijah. Standing perfectly still, watching me with those dead, cold eyes.
He wasn't shouting. He wasn't even angry. He was just... observing. Like a god deciding the fate of an insect.
I saw divers in the water. They weren't coming for me. They went straight for the sinking jet.
A moment later, they surfaced, dragging a sputtering, gasping, and violently seasick Leo into a rescue basket.
He was hauled up into another helicopter, and through the open door, I saw a flash of a scene that broke what was left of my heart.
Juliet was in there, safe and dry, surrounded by many colourful toys.
She was curled up asleep on Riven's massive chest, his arms wrapped tightly around her.
And Tia Rosa was there too, her face pale, already talking, probably begging for my life.
Then, rough hands grabbed me. I was hauled up, dripping and hysterical, into the helicopter with Elijah. I collapsed on the floor, coughing up seawater, my whole body shaking.
Elijah didn't move. He just stared down at me ,his eyes, chips of ice .
"Why," he asked, his voice so quiet it was almost lost in the rotor blades, "did you have my mother's diary?"
A crazy, broken laugh bubbled out of me. "Why? Because that piece of sh*t you called a father caged her! And he killed my mother for trying to 'save' that lowly s**t of his."
In a flash, his hand was around my neck, squeezing. The world started to go dark. I could hear Tia Rosa screaming, "Elijah, no! Please!"
He let go, and I collapsed, gasping, as he turned away in disgust. "You sent the FBI to my door. You stole a billion dollars. And for what? For a family that was already destroying itself?"
Tia Rosa pleaded with him. "Elijah, mijo, please. Let the law handle her. Let her go to prison."
He shook his head, his decision made. "She knows too much. She took too much."
He nodded to one of his guards—a fierce-looking woman with cold eyes. She stepped forward with a rope.
They tied my hands and feet. Then, she pulled out a knife and cut away a large piece of my dress, the expensive fabric falling to the floor.
She threw a heavy, wet blanket over my shoulders. It was soaked through with a thick, metallic smell that made my stomach turn.
A second guard placed a sloshing metal bucket at my feet, filled with the same coppery liquid.
I screamed, thrashing, but it was useless. They pushed me to the open door. Below us, a speedboat waited on the dark, choppy water.
We descended, the smell of metal and salt filling my nose.
As we got closer, I saw it. A hole had been cut in the deck of the boat, and inside it was filled with raw, red meat.
And circling the boat, cutting through the dark water, were dozens of triangular fins.
The helicopters flew away, leaving me alone in the growing darkness. Their blades fading into a ghostly hum, swallowed by the sea.
The sharks were getting closer, nudging the boat, making it rock violently.
This was it. This was how the great Sofia Mendoza ended. As shark food.
But they had forgotten who I was. I was a survivor. My hands were tied, but my legs were free. I braced myself against the side of the boat, ignoring the throbbing pain in my leg.
As a larger shark bumped the hull, I used the momentum, hooking my foot through the bucket's handle and kicking it over with all my strength.
The dark liquid poured into the ocean on the opposite side.
The sharks went into a frenzy—on the other side of the boat.
It was the distraction I needed. With my hands still bound, I dove into the water on the blood-free side.
I kicked with all my strength, swimming away from the feeding frenzy, my heart pounding in my ears.
I don't know how long I drifted. Consciousness was a flickering thing.
The next thing I knew, I was coughing up saltwater on a different shore, a tiny, secluded island I had never seen.
Then I heard voices. A man and a child.
Through blurred vision, I saw a weathered fisherman with a kind, worried face, and a little girl hiding behind his legs, clutching a ragged doll.
"Papa, is she a mermaid?" the little girl whispered.
The fisherman knelt beside me, his hands gentle as he checked my wounds. "No, mi corazon. She is a woman. And she is hurt."
He looked at me, his eyes holding no recognition, only simple human concern.
In that moment, I was not Sofia Mendoza, the would-be queen of ashes. I was just a broken castaway.
...
Leo's POV
Water. Everywhere. Cold, salty, and choking.
I've never been a strong swimmer. The data was irrelevant—panic was a physical weight, dragging me down into the blurry blue hell.
My glasses were gone, stolen by the sea, and the world was a smeared, terrifying watercolor
. Our plan was so miscalculated, the thought screamed in my head, clear and sharp amidst the drowning chaos.
I remembered I couldn't swim. I remembered, and I still got on that plane. I will never, ever do that again.
Just as my lungs screamed their final protest, strong hands grabbed me.
A diver. Fernandez security.
I was hauled into a rescue basket, coughing and shivering uncontrollably.
The next thing I knew, I was inside the helicopter, wrapped in a rough blanket.
My stomach churned violently, a nauseating cocktail of seawater and the spinning rotors.
I curled in on myself, shivering like a scared kid, feeling stupid and young and infuriated by my own body's betrayal.
Without my glasses, everything was soft and undefined, adding to the dizzying sense of unreality.
"¡Ay, Dios mío! ¡Mi niño!" Tia Rosa's voice cut through the rotor wash like a knife, all drama and genuine terror.
Before I could even process it, her hands were on my face, patting my cheeks as if checking for life. "You're white as a ghost! And you're freezing! Riven, don't just sit there grinning like an idiot—get another blanket! Juliet, mi amor, move over, your brother is turning blue!"
She descended upon me in a whirlwind of perfume and panic, tucking the edges of my blanket with military precision while simultaneously wiping seawater from my face with her sleeve.
"I knew this was a bad idea! All these planes and helicopters and sharks! This family is going to send me to an early grave! Look at you, you brilliant boy, nearly drowned because of your brother's nonsense!"
A rough hand clapped my shoulder. "Look who's alive. Nerd boy."
I cracked open an eye.
Riven's grinning face swam in my blurred vision. My stomach lurched.
I swallowed hard against the bile rising in my throat, my face undoubtedly a pale shade of green.
"It was your plan, though," Riven laughed, the sound booming over the rotor blades. He looked far too amused.
"Don't you tease him!" Tia Rosa scolded, swatting at Riven's arm without missing a beat in her frantic mothering. "He's a genius! Your plan was to hit things! His plan almost worked!"
"Statistical... anomaly," I managed to mutter, the words thick and miserable.
"The variables... were sound. My constitution... was not part of the equation." I squeezed my eyes shut again, wishing for death or dry land, whichever came first, while Tia Rosa fretted over me.
I blinked, trying to clear my vision. And then I saw her.
Juliet. My little sister. She was safe, curled up on Riven's lap, her tiny fist clutching his shirt.
She was asleep, peaceful and unaware of the chaos. Riven held her like she was the most precious thing in the world, his face a mask of relief.
My focus shifted to the other helicopter hovering nearby. Through the blurred open door, I saw Elijah. And Sofia.
She was hysterical, screaming at him. I saw Elijah's hand snap to her throat, and my own breath hitched.
Tia Rosa's cries echoed in our cabin, "Elijah, no! Por el amor de Dios, stop!" her voice cracking with a fresh wave of panic.
He let go. But I knew it wasn't over.
I saw one of our guards—a woman named Anya—step forward with a rope and a bucket.
My stomach dropped. I knew what came next. This wasn't just about justice.
This was a message.
They lowered Sofia, covered in blood, toward a waiting boat below. A boat filled with meat, in shark-infested waters.
I turned away, my body trembling from more than just the cold and the sickness.
I had calculated every variable, every possible outcome.
But I never accounted for the cost of watching a monster become a legend, or the sheer, stupid terror of almost drowning, or the way Tia Rosa's dramatic, all-consuming love could somehow make you feel both utterly embarrassed and profoundly safe at the same time.
Just then, Juliet stirred again.
A soft whimper, a flutter of lashes—and those big, sleepy eyes blinked open, hazy with dreams.
She snuggled deeper into Riven's chest, the faint hum of the helicopter vibrating beneath them like a lullaby.
Then she paused.
Her tiny head turned toward the window, curiosity flickering awake.
Beyond the soundproof glass stretched the velvet night sky, endless and deep. Her little body went perfectly still.
A chubby finger rose, trembling slightly as she pointed.
"Ooh!" she gasped, her voice barely more than a bubble of wonder.
We followed her gaze—and there it was
. A burst of crimson and gold bloomed in the darkness, painting the clouds in light. Then another. And another. Fireworks.
Dazzling, silent flowers of fire blossoming one after the other, their thunderous echoes swallowed by the helicopter's luxury soundproof walls.
Juliet's round face lit up like sunrise.
Her gummy grin spread wide, eyes sparkling like she'd just discovered heaven through glass.
She bounced on Riven's lap, palms smacking softly against the window, giggling at the silent storm of color outside.
That's when I noticed it—tiny flecks drifting through the air, glowing in the fireworks' reflection. Snow. Falling slow and delicate, like a benediction over the city below. The first snow of Christmas.
Beneath us, the world glittered—a sea of golden streets and white rooftops, every window a heartbeat of light.
And there we were, hovering above it all in a cocoon of warmth and safety, a fragile miracle stitched together after chaos.
Juliet squealed again, her laughter bright and pure, slicing through the memory of Sofia's last scream like dawn tearing open night.