Lachlan didn’t think.

He never had to, not when it came to her.

The rope between him and the others was the first thing to go. His knife sliced clean through the line before anyone could stop him, and then he was gone—shoulder-first into the hole, the cold closing over him like glass dropped on his skin.

It was like falling into night.

His chest seized instantly.

His mouth clamped shut.

He kicked hard and fast, human panic driving him down after the shape of her coat, the flash of her boots, the bright white of her hair.

The black water grabbed at him, tugging him sideways, spinning him. His lungs screamed up. His brain screamed air. He ignored both. He had maybe forty seconds before his body betrayed him.

There—Sera. A flicker of movement just ahead, arms outstretched, not flailing. Calm. She twisted once, her hair fanning around her head like ink, and her eyes opened. They weren’t human eyes. Not entirely.

The creature in her had surfaced the second the ice swallowed her.

And then it hit him. She wasn’t afraid.

His heart slammed against his ribs. He drove toward her harder, teeth bared against the burn in his chest. He reached for her sleeve and missed. He reached again and this time caught her wrist.

Sera didn’t fight him. She only turned and placed her palm flat against his chest. Her fingers spread wide, pressing once—steady, deliberate.

Breathe.

The command wasn’t spoken in words. Rather, he felt it in his bones.

His chest convulsed in protest. His brain screamed at him that he was in ice cold water, that to breath like his body was commanding was nothing short of suicide. The old laws of survival screamed that opening his mouth would drown him. He shook his head, bubbles fleeing between his teeth.

Her grip on him tightened just enough to command his attention. She leaned close enough that her forehead touched his, the cold of her lavender colored skin almost indistinguishable from the water around them.

Her eyes burned black in the darkness like her contacts weren’t enough to keep the creature at bay.

Too stupid to live.

The creature inside of him stirred for the first time with a voice he had never heard before. A low rumble that seemed to come from his own ribs, curling up his throat like it had always lived there.

Do it. Stop fighting. You are not what you were. If you don’t listen to the Alpha, you really are too stupid to live.

Lachlan’s body was shaking now, his lungs desperate for air. He looked up for a moment and saw the section of ice where Sera had fallen through. The surface was too far away, and he couldn’t hold it any longer. His chest convulsed again, and this time he let go.

He opened his mouth.

Water rushed in—except it wasn’t water anymore. It was air disguised as water, heavy but alive, filling him in a way breath never had before. His body stopped screaming. The burn went out. His chest expanded and settled like it had finally been given what it wanted.

The voice inside him laughed. A wild, rolling laugh that sounded like his own but sharper.

See? We do not drown. We are not prey in the water.

He blinked, stunned, the realization burning hotter than the cold ever could: he could breathe.

Sera let go of his chest. She tilted her chin once, satisfied, and turned in the water like she belonged there. He followed without hesitation.

For the first time since the world had ended, Lachlan didn’t feel like he was fighting something inside of him that should never be let out.

Instead, he was more than happy to embrace it.

Especially if it meant that he could have a world like this...

A world that was only for the two of them.

-----

Together, they swam.

Not like humans. Not the flailing churn of arms and legs desperate to break surface.

Instead, their motions were smooth...efficient. Their bodies cutting through the black like sharks, like they were born to do it.

The current wanted to pull them west, but it no longer felt like resistance—it felt like something they could ride if they chose.

Shapes flickered in the dark: silver bodies, quick and darting. Fish, alive, schooling around them. The creature inside Lachlan purred approval.

Haven’t seen them in years, Lachlan thought dimly. Not like this. Not so many.

The voice inside him growled softly. Not years. Not here. We are deeper than you could have ever swam in the oceans of Country A.

He looked down, trying to orient himself. He expected the familiar outline of H City buried under ice, streets twisted with cars, towers broken and buildings standing just as they were before the tsunami.

Instead, there was nothing.

No shadows of buildings, no rubble, no bones. Just water. Endless black, stretching farther than his sight could reach.

His stomach flipped. There should be something here. Anything.

Gone, the creature inside of him hissed. All gone. Ice above. Water below. This is the world now.

He tried to shake it off, but the truth of it burned colder than the water around him.

Sera moved beside him, unhurried, her coat trailing like shadow, her limbs long and sleek. She glanced over once, not to check if he was following but as if to measure how he was handling it. He grinned back, reckless, bubbles spilling from his teeth. He was handling it fine.

Better than fine.

He kicked once, hard, and the water responded. His body surged forward like it had been waiting for this moment his entire life. He twisted, flipped onto his back, then rolled again, moving faster than he’d ever moved on land.

His creature purred approval.

Yes. See what you are. See what you can be.

The fear in his chest was gone. The panic was gone. Only exhilaration remained. For the first time since the world fell apart, Lachlan felt free.

Sera angled upward toward the faint shimmer of the ice ceiling, and he followed, matching her without thought. Together, they carved through the water like predators that had always belonged here.

He laughed into the current. The sound didn’t carry. It didn’t have to. The creature inside him laughed too.

Not prey, it reminded him. Never prey.

And for once, he believed it.