“Help me,” I grit out without looking at Ethan. I try not to wince as his hands grip my waist, giving me the height and stability to place my boots on the knives. The hilts slide against the heels of my boots, keeping me as stable as possible.

Ethan braces my calves as I pull out one of my smaller wrist knives and plunge it through the wet glass. The water turns the handle slippery in an instant, but I only tighten my grip. Carefully, I lean down and grab another knife, placing it as high as I can reach.

“Let go!” I shout down to Ethan. I grab another wrist knife, digging in and pulling myself up at the same time before I can overthink my movements. My left foot hits a knife and slides off. I jerk my right foot out, searching for grounding as the smaller knife and my right arm take my full weight.

Ethan yells something I don’t hear. My left hand grabs a knife from my wrist and connects it with glass. Dangling, my feet claw until they find the knife hilt. My arms shake as I regain my balance.

Three more knives in my boot. Three more at my wrist.

I can make it. I’m smarter this time. I focus on the tingling magic, let it consume every other thought, every desire I ever had until I’m numb—nothing but a vessel for the power. The magic likes me this way. My limbs move, pulling knives, sinking them with barely a thought. My last knife goes in just below my goal. I grip it with both hands as my right foot fights to balance on a hilt. My left foot dangles with nowhere to go.

I let go with one hand and pull the key from my back pocket, slamming it into the glass blocking the keyhole.

The force clatters up my arm. I grasp at the hilt of my knife until I’m holding nothing at all.

I fall.

Cold water envelopes me, pushing up my nose. My limbs flail as I try to escape its grip, but it’s everywhere. My boots scramble against glass, and I kick up in an instant. Air greets me, and I choke on it, the water sloshing under my nose. I stand on my tiptoes.

Ethan watches as the water rises above my nose, and I jump to get a breath before going under again. My heart slams, trying to escape my own drowning body. I fight the urge to thrash my limbs. Focus. My knife ladder is only five feet behind me, but it seems like miles as I jump up for another breath, the water pulling me back down like it’s made of tiny, vicious hands intent on ending me.

I jump again, barely getting enough traction.

“Help,” I gasp out.