The Choice

It happened in a heartbeat.

One moment, Cora was watching Julian walk toward them, the firelight haloing his hair. The next, the ground simply dissolved.

The heavy rains had undercut the bank. The mud, unable to support the weight of the gathering crowd near the edge, sheared off into the water.

Cora didn't have time to scream. The world tilted sideways, and then she was falling.

She hit the water hard. The cold was shocking, a physical blow that punched the air from her lungs. The current wasn't a flow; it was a stampede. It grabbed her, spun her around, and dragged her under.

Cora tumbled through the darkness, her shoulder slamming against a submerged rock. Pain exploded down her arm, rendering it useless. She kicked wildly, fighting the weight of her clothes, fighting the river that wanted to keep her.

She broke the surface, gasping for air, choking on silt.

"Help!"

The scream was torn from her throat, raw and terrified.

Ten yards away, Lila was flailing. The red dress had become a heavy shroud, pulling her down. She was screaming, thrashing, panicking in a way that wasted precious oxygen.

"Julian!" Lila shrieked.

Cora treaded water, struggling to keep her head up with one good arm. She saw him.

Julian had dived in from the stable bank. He was a powerful swimmer, cutting through the violent current with Alpha strength. He was coming toward them.

Cora’s heart swelled with relief, even as the water filled her mouth. *He’s coming. He’s coming for me.*

She reached out with her good hand, her fingers splayed, waiting for his grip.

"Julian," she choked out.

He swam closer. His eyes were wide, focused, terrified.

And then, he swam past her.

Time seemed to warp, stretching into an agonizing slow motion. Cora watched as Julian’s shoulder brushed her fingertips. He didn't stop. He didn't even look at her.

He swam straight to Lila.

He grabbed the Beta’s daughter, who was hysterical, wrapping his arm around her waist and hauling her head above water.

"I've got you!" Julian roared over the sound of the rapids. "Kick, Lila! Kick!"

Cora stayed suspended in the freezing water, her hand still outstretched, grasping at nothing but empty air and spray.

The realization hit her harder than the rock had. It hit her harder than the cold.

*He thinks I can make it.*

It was a compliment, in a twisted, terrible way. He knew Cora was a strong swimmer. He knew she was practical. He assumed she could save herself, so he prioritized the weaker girl. The political asset.

But he was wrong. Her arm was broken. Her lungs were burning.

And even if she could swim, the will to do so evaporated.

He hadn't chosen her. In the moment of life and death, when instinct overrode logic, his instinct did not scream *Cora*.

A wave crashed over her head, pushing her down.

This time, Cora didn't fight. The fire on the shore seemed a million miles away. The love she had nurtured in secret, the certainty of their bond, dissolved like salt in the water.

She was the fool. The mistake was hers.

She let the river take her. She sank into the darkness, the cold embracing her in a way he never would.

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