“I swear to fucking God, you better be alive,” I spit, coming up to a cavern that drops down several feet.
I can't see anything from here, but I don't have any choice but to feel my way down. I take it as slow as I’m physically capable of, which isn't very slow when there's a little siren who could possibly be hurt.
“Sawyer!” I call again, just as I reach the bottom. No answer.
Sweat beads along my hairline, despite how much cooler it is down here. I plant my hands along the cave wall and feel my way through. A blue hue begins to form, making it easier to see. I come out to another opening, glowworms scattered across the ceiling.
There.
My gaze instantly finds her, laid out on the floor and unconscious.
My heart drops. “Motherfucker.”
I rush to her, feeling like my chest is caved in as I crouch down and gently lift her head, blood instantly coating my hand. Head wounds can bleed profusely regardless of the severity, but I need to get her to the lighthouse and assess the damage properly.
“Cazzo, che cazzo hai fatto?” I ramble, immediately feeling for a pulse. It’s strong, and she’s breathing, but I have no idea how long she’s been out for.
“Wake up, bella. Let me see those eyes.”
She doesn’t move, and my panic deepens.
There's a flashlight next to her fingertips, so I quickly grab it and switch it on.
“Sawyer, I need you to wake up,” I say, opening one of her eyelids and shining the light directly into it.
A groan filters from her mouth, and a moment later, she’s twisting her head out of my hold.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” I mutter, relief overcoming me when she mumbles, “What happened?”
“You fell. I need you to sit up so I can get us out of here,” I tell her, urging her up. She groans again but sits up.
“Come here, baby,” I whisper, gathering her tiny body against my chest. “I need you to hold on to me very tightly. Don’t let go.”
“Goddamn, I’m still not dead yet?” she whines, and Christ, I’m going to fucking spank her the second she recovers. “It feels like my head is splitting in half. Maybe I need to give it a few more seconds before the Lord takes me.”
Groaning, she slings her arms around my neck while I arrange her onto my back, her thighs coiled around my hips. She tightens them, crossing her feet while I stand.
Sweat coats my body like oil, dripping into my eyes and stinging them while I make my way back through the tunnel. I shine the light up toward the opening of the hole, mapping the best route to climb up with her on my back.
“Hold tight, baby.”
She attempts to tighten her arms, but her hold is weak as I ascend the rock wall. Sawyer’s head rests on my shoulder, flopping around as I jostle her, worrying me further. It couldn’t have taken more than thirty seconds to reach the top, but every second felt like too many.
Carrying her through the cave and out of the entrance is a blur. The cool air is a balm to my flushed skin, though the bright light pierces my eyes and forces me to stop until I can focus properly.
“Oh no, Enzo, I’m looking into the light,” she mutters, a teasing lilt to her tone.
“You’re not funny,” I snap, squinting against the harsh sun as I carefully make my way across the uneven terrain and get us onto the sand.
“I’ll get you to smile one of these days,” she murmurs. “Maybe you should do it one time before I die.”
“You’re not dying.”
“You sure? I think I hear Jesus talking to me.”
“Then you’re definitely not dying. Jesus would never talk to you.”
She snorts, then groans. “You’re right. Maybe it’s just your voice I’m hearing, and that’s my sign I’m going to Hell. You are the devil, after all.”
If I’m the devil, she’s fucking Lilith.
Finally, I reach the lighthouse, getting the door open and rushing her to the couch. Setting her down gently, I take off to find the first aid kit.
“You’re weirding me out,” she says when I return. I pause long enough to pin her with a glare.
“Didn’t I say you can’t get away from me? That means in death, too, bella.”
She crosses her arms, keeping silent as I get to work cleaning her wound. There’s a minor laceration across the back of her head, but it doesn’t appear to be too deep.
“What’s the diagnosis, doc?”
“You’ll be fine. Doesn’t need stitches, but you probably have a concussion.”