Free Web NovelChapter 281: Chapter 280 - To Protect Her
Marybeth’s POV
At the edge of the pier, Cena’s torn mouth opened.
Marybeth could not hear the word over the engine, the gunfire, and Iyisha’s screaming, but she saw Iyisha react to it. Iyisha lunged over the rail like the sound had hit her in the chest.
Malcolm caught her around the waist and dragged her back before she fell into the widening gap between the yacht and the pier.
"No!" Iyisha screamed. "No, Cena, please!"
Marybeth sat against the side of the deck with Lance half across her lap. Her hand covered her mouth as she watched Iyisha lose herself.
Lance’s wound had closed enough to stop bleeding, but his shirt was still soaked. He was breathing. She held on to that for one second, then looked at Iyisha clawing at Malcolm’s arm like she could tear her way back to her sister.
The yacht jerked away from the dock.
The last rope snapped loose near the front. Harry fell back against the rail. Bert grabbed the side as the boat shifted hard over the waves. The wooden pier moved farther from the deck, inch by inch at first, then faster as the engine caught.
Marybeth looked down at Lance, tears running down her face. "Stay with me."
Lance’s eyes stayed on Cena. "Go to her."
Marybeth’s throat closed. She slid him carefully against the side wall and shouted for Aljun. He dropped beside Lance at once and pressed one hand over the bandage.
"I’ve got him," Aljun said.
Marybeth crawled across the rocking deck toward Iyisha.
Cena stayed on the pier. She stood between the yacht and the soldiers, huge and bloodied, her chest torn open, one hand still stretched toward Iyisha. The soldiers rushed her from the road, and Cena turned to meet them.
The first net hit Cena’s shoulder. She ripped through it before the soldiers could pull tight. Her arm swept across the front line, and men flew off their feet, slamming into the posts, the planks, and the side of the dock. One hit the water and vanished beside the boat.
Iyisha screamed her sister’s name again and threw her whole body toward the rail.
Marybeth reached her and grabbed her from the side. Malcolm still held Iyisha around the waist, but Iyisha fought both of them, sobbing, kicking, reaching over the rail with both hands.
"Let me go!" Iyisha screamed. "She’s still there!"
Marybeth wrapped both arms around her. "I know. I know."
Cena drove herself into the trucks near the service road. She hit the first one with her shoulder and shoved it sideways until it slammed into another truck, blocking the path to the pier.
Soldiers climbed over the hood.
Cena grabbed one and threw him into the men behind him, then struck the truck again until the front end folded across the road.
"She’s saving us," Marybeth whispered, and the words broke as they came out.
Iyisha shook against her. "She said my name. Let me go to her. Please!"
She screamed the last word into Marybeth’s ear and shoved at their hands, trying to crawl back toward the pier. Malcolm’s jaw was locked. His eyes stayed on Cena as he held Iyisha down with both arms.
Marybeth pressed her cheek against Iyisha’s hair and held on harder. Tears ran down her face.
She tried to imagine the pain of finding a sister like this and could not. Cena had been within reach in Long Island. If they had known, if the lab had told Iyisha, if anyone had said the tank had a name, this would have not happen.
The lab had known.
They had known and left Iyisha chasing a ghost.
Iyisha had talked about Cena so many times. How loving she was. How protective. How she always stood between Iyisha and whatever tried to hurt her.
And in the end, Cena was doing the same thing.
Marybeth bit her lip hard as Iyisha shook with her cries.
The yacht pulled farther away.
Water widened between the boat and the pier. Iyisha fought toward the rail again, and Marybeth almost lost her grip when Iyisha’s nails caught her skin and scratched deep. Malcolm caught Iyisha under the arms and dragged her back, but Marybeth stayed with them, one hand locked around Iyisha’s wrist.
Blood trickled down Marybeth’s forearm. She barely felt it.
Cena was the only thing that mattered.
Shock poles struck Cena’s side and back. Nets caught across her chest and one arm. Cena roared and dragged the men forward with her. She slammed into the wreckage again, keeping the trucks jammed across the road.
"Cena," Iyisha cried. Her voice cracked until it barely sounded human. "Please let me go to her. Marybeth, please. She’s right there."
Marybeth’s face twisted. She pulled Iyisha tighter because no answer could make any of this easier.
Cena grabbed a shock pole from a soldier and drove it through the wheel of the nearest truck. The soldiers could not move it now. Even from the yacht, Marybeth understood what Cena was doing. She was destroying every vehicle they could use to follow.
Another soldier fired into Cena’s face. Her head snapped sideways, but she turned back and hit him with her shoulder hard enough to throw him under the wreckage.
The yacht moved faster.
Iyisha reached over the rail with both hands. "Cena!"
Cena turned once more.
Her mouth moved.
The engine swallowed the sound.
Iyisha broke again. Her knees hit the deck, and Marybeth went down with her. Malcolm crouched behind them, still holding Iyisha, his face tight and streaked with blood.
Marybeth held Iyisha against her chest while Iyisha screamed into the open water. Her own sob came out rough and sudden. She bent over Iyisha and cried with her, one hand gripping the back of Iyisha’s lab coat, the other locked around her wrist so she could not throw herself after Cena.
"Iyisha," Marybeth started, but the rest failed in her throat.
What could she say?
That Cena was brave? That her sacrifice meant something? How could she say that to a woman who had crossed ruined states just to find her sister, only to watch her stay behind on a pier?
To watch her die.
Cena faced the soldiers again.
She charged them before they reached the pier.
She held Iyisha tighter and watched Cena drive herself into the men coming for them. Cena kept the road blocked. She used her own body to give the yacht room to escape.
Iyisha’s scream tore through Marybeth’s chest.
The distance grew, but Marybeth could still see enough. Cena drove herself into the wreckage again, keeping the trucks jammed across the road while the soldiers tried to force a path through.
Iyisha’s screaming changed. It lost strength little by little. Her hands stayed lifted toward the pier, but they shook now instead of clawing. Her voice broke around Cena’s name until it came out thinner each time.
"Cena. Please. Cena."
Marybeth held her tighter and pressed her cheek to Iyisha’s hair. She wanted to turn her away, but Iyisha kept staring across the water. Marybeth could not take the last sight from her.
The soldiers hit Cena from both sides. Nets pulled tight around her shoulders and chest. Restraint cables snapped forward and caught her arms. Cena pulled against them and dragged men across the road, but more soldiers came behind the first line.
A truck jerked backward. The cable snapped tight.
Cena’s body lurched.
Iyisha went still against Marybeth.
Then one of Cena’s arms tore loose.
Iyisha made a small sound. Her mouth opened, but the scream caught in her throat.
Marybeth’s hand flew over her own mouth. She looked down for half a second. The scene was gore and heartbreaking enough for her, a wanderer, to look away.
Cena staggered, then charged forward with her shoulder. She hit the soldiers and the trucks again, still trying to keep the road blocked. Another cable pulled from the other side. Men shouted. Rifles fired. Cena twisted toward the water like she was trying to see the yacht again.
The second arm came apart. Her hand flinched on Iyisha’s.
Iyisha’s hands dropped.
Malcolm tightened his arms around her from behind. His face stayed turned toward the pier, but he said nothing. He only held her while her body folded against Marybeth’s chest.
Cena stayed upright.
Marybeth saw her shape through smoke and gunfire, huge and broken, still moving without arms. She threw herself into the soldiers with her whole body, forcing them back again.
Iyisha’s fingers gripped Marybeth’s shirt. Her breathing came in short, broken pulls. She stared across the widening water as Cena lowered her head and hit the soldiers again.
A burst of gunfire struck high.
Cena’s head snapped sideways.
Marybeth flinched.
Cena’s head hung wrong after that. Blood sprayed across the pale stone. Even from the yacht, Marybeth saw her struggle to lift it again.
Iyisha whispered her name.
"Cena."
Cena turned toward the water.
She had no arms left to reach with, but her whole body shifted toward the yacht. Her head lifted badly, hanging to one side, blood pouring down her neck and chest. For one second, Marybeth thought Cena was still trying to follow them.
Iyisha saw it too.
Her hands flew into her own hair. Her fingers locked there, pulling hard as her eyes went wide. The sound that came out of her was small at first, trapped in her throat.
"Ah..."
Malcolm tightened his arms around her. "Iyisha."
Cena took one broken step toward the water.
The soldiers hit her from behind.
Her body pitched forward, but she caught herself with her shoulder against the road and shoved back into them. A line of men went down. More rushed over the trucks. Rifles fired into her at close range. Nets dragged over what was left of her shoulders.
Iyisha’s breathing broke apart.
"Ah... ah..."
Marybeth held her tighter. "Don’t look. Iyisha, please."
But Iyisha kept looking.
Cena lowered her head and drove herself into the soldiers one last time. Her body hit the wrecked trucks hard enough to move them across the road again. Metal scraped over stone. Men shouted and fell back. The path to the pier closed tighter.
Then Cena fell.
Her body struck the road across the gap she had been blocking.
The soldiers swarmed around her, but they could not get through fast enough. ƒгeewebnovёl.com
Iyisha stopped making sound.
That silence scared Marybeth more than the screaming.
Iyisha stared at the road, her hands still twisted in her hair. Her mouth stayed open, but nothing came out. Her body shook once against Marybeth’s arms.
Malcolm bent over her. "Iyisha, breathe."
She did not.
"Iyisha."
Her eyes stayed fixed on the pier, on the place where Cena had fallen.
Then the air tore out of her in one broken cry.
It did not sound like her anymore.
Marybeth felt it against her chest and started crying harder. She pulled Iyisha down with her, holding her as she folded. Malcolm caught both of them from behind, one arm around Iyisha, one hand braced on the deck.
"Iyisha, please," Malcolm said, his voice rough now. "Look at me."
Iyisha’s fingers slipped from her hair.
Her body went slack.
Marybeth caught her weight and clutched her closer. "Iyisha?"
Malcolm turned her face with one hand. "Iyisha."
She did not answer.
Behind them, the yacht kept moving. The water widened between the boat and the pier. The soldiers were still clustered around the road, still blocked by the wreckage and by Cena’s body.
Marybeth held Iyisha against her chest and looked back once.
Cena did not rise.
The boat carried them farther away.
