There are no good options available to us.

We run to the bathroom and close the door, huddling together in the bathtub, Anthony’s arms wrapped tightly around me, his breath hot on my neck.

“I hate this,” he murmurs, his lips grazing my ear. “Hate being so helpless. We should have tried to leave. I should have taken you to safety.”

“You had no way of knowing it would be this bad. I’ve never experienced a storm like this.”

Anthony’s grip on me tightens. “If we don’t make it—”

“Don’t say that.”

“If we don’t make it,” he continues, “I want you to know that these past few days with you have been some of the happiest of my life.”

I swallow, threading my fingers through his, lifting our joined hands, and pressing my lips to his knuckles.

We don’t speak, the storm raging around us.

How many hours do we have left?

And then, the world stills.

Anthony releases me, and I follow him to the bedroom. He peers out at the ocean through one of the bedroom windows, one we never got around to boarding up.

The stars are out in the inky black sky, the breeze dormant, everything peaceful and calm.

“Is it over?” Anthony asks, and I am struck again by the sensation that we have switched places, that I am the experienced one as he looks to me for reassurance.

“No.” Memories of my childhood in Cuba flash before me. “It’s about to get worse. This happens with storms sometimes. There’s a moment of calm before it kicks back up again, sometimes worse than it was to begin with.”

A blistering curse falls from Anthony’s lips. “Go back in the bathroom. I’m going downstairs to see if I can bring some food and supplies while the weather is calm. Who knows how long we’ll be stuck up here, and I’d rather be prepared for the worst.” He grimaces. “We certainly weren’t ready for this.”

“It’s not your fault. No one could have predicted it.”

“I made a vow to keep you safe.” He gives me one of the Coleman lanterns, taking the other for himself. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

I grab his forearm. “Are you sure you want to go down there? The water was rising already. Who knows what it’ll be like now? A few supplies aren’t worth risking your life.”

“They will be if we’re stranded for days waiting to be rescued, and I don’t want to chance the water and wind carrying everything away when the storm starts up again.”

Anthony’s right, of course, but I can’t deny the fear that he will walk downstairs and never come back.

“I’ll go with you, then. I’m a strong swimmer. I practically grew up in the ocean—”

“Mirta. No. I need you to stay here.”

“Two of us can carry more items back.”

“And there’s a greater chance of something happening to both of us. Please. I’ll be quick. I promise.” He presses his lips to mine in a swift kiss that seems a lot like good-bye.

Tears sting my eyes, but I let him go.

The night is quiet, and I listen for the wind picking back up, the sea pummeling the house, for Anthony calling out for me if the waters get too deep below.

The wait seems interminable.

Finally, the sound of footsteps on the hardwood floor breaks up the quiet.

I leap from my position on the bathroom floor, lantern in hand, and go to greet Anthony.

“How bad are the conditions downstairs? Were you able to get supplies? I was so worried.” I turn the doorknob, stepping out into the dark room. “Anthony?”

I grip the lantern, shining the light around the room.

It settles on a man.

He’s dressed in a ratty pair of overalls, a threadbare shirt.

I recognize him instantly.

I’ve seen him lurking around the property, smoking a cigarette when everyone was boarding up the house yesterday, the one I thought might be one of the workers.

There’s a knife in his hand, the metal gleaming in the ray of lantern light, desperation in his eyes.

“If you scream, I’ll cut that pretty neck of yours.”

My mouth goes dry, any noise I might make strangled in my throat in a morass of terror. Perhaps he came here searching for refuge from the storm. Or maybe he came here for something else entirely.

“Give me the ring.” He strides toward me with heavy footfalls. He stops inches away from me, his body towering over mine.

From a distance, he seemed physically imposing. Next to me, the knife in his hand, he’s terrifying.

“Wh-What?”

“The ring. Give me the ring. The one I’ve seen you wearing.”

I glance down at my finger, at the enormous diamond Anthony placed there back in Havana. Despite the reservations I felt wearing it, there’s a sharp sense of loss as I slide it off.

The man grabs the ring from me with one hand, the knife inches away from my body.

Where is Anthony?

The noises downstairs could have been from the storm. Or the man in our bedroom could have an accomplice. Is Anthony hurt somewhere? Dead?

A loud thud hits the window, followed by the sound of breaking glass somewhere in the house. Outside, the wind rages and whines, a whistling sound filling my ears, the storm starting once more.

“Give me the rest of your jewelry,” the man yells. “The cash, too.”

Where is Anthony?

“Give me the jewelry,” he repeats, the knife arcing closer to my body.

I don’t argue, but instead walk over to the dresser, to the pretty wooden box I admired when I first explored the room. I lift the lid, scooping out the items Anthony has given me, a pang in my chest at the sight of the pieces I brought with me from Cuba, the necklace that belonged to generations of Perez women, that my father presented to me on my wedding day.

It’s ridiculous, but it feels like I’m giving a piece of my family away as I hand the man the jewels, as he shoves them in his pockets.

I open my mouth to call for help, and he lunges toward me, the tip of the knife nearly grazing my side.

I gasp.

“Don’t scream,” the man commands.

Anthony walks into the bedroom.

He freezes, his gaze darting from me to the man holding the knife to my neck. He drops the supplies he gathered from downstairs to the ground.

He’s no longer my husband, no longer someone I recognize. Instead, a mask slides over his face, and the warmth I usually see in his eyes is replaced with a cold and calculating stare. He looks fearsome, and for once, it is the most reassuring thing I have ever seen.