Olivia's POV
The momentary fall let me glance back.
He was maybe thirty feet behind me, moving at an easy jog, the knife glinting in his hand. He wasn't even trying to catch me yet. He was playing with me. Drawing it out.
Terror gave me a fresh burst of speed.
I hit the waterline, the cold ocean washing over my feet, soaking my leggings up to my calves.
I kept going.
Into deeper water. Up to my knees. Up to my thighs.
The waves pushed against me, trying to knock me off balance, but I pushed back, wading deeper.
"What are you doing?" the man called out, and he sounded genuinely curious now. "You planning to swim away? I absolutely love it!"
The water was up to my waist now. Then my chest.
It was freezing - the kind of cold that steals your breath and makes your muscles seize up.
But I'd rather drown than let him catch me. Rather let the ocean take me than give him the satisfaction of using that knife.
