Page 53 of Captive Bride

"Watch it." Kieran's voice was a harsh whisper as he gestured to a hollow where seafoam gathered like ghostly fingers reaching out from the deep.

"Got it," I grunted in response, adjusting my grip on the cold, slick plastic that encased the remnants of David Miller. Amber was Kieran's burden to bear; we each carried the weight of our own kills.

The first touch of water was a shock to the system. The Atlantic didn't care for the drama that drove men to her shores—it bit with icy indifference at our flesh. Waves lapped hungrily at our legs, eager to claim what we brought.

"Damn, that's cold," Kieran muttered, his teeth audibly chattering.

"Keep moving," I urged, feeling the numbing tendrils of the ocean crawl up my thighs, a cruel contrast to the adrenaline still burning in my veins.

It was a dark dance we did—stepping forward, bracing against the push of the tide, the rhythmic roar of the waves a morbid soundtrack to our task. With each advance, the frigid waters rose, seizing our waists, chests, until we were submerged to our necks, our movements sluggish.

"Let's do this quick," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. I didn’t need to tell Kieran twice. Together, we unclasped the chains and released the weights, feeling more than hearing the splash as the bodies descended, pulled down by the iron embrace of the dumbbells.

"May they rest," I murmured, not out of respect, but out of necessity. We needed them to stay put, to disappear into the depths and be erased by the relentless churn of the sea.

"Let's get out of here," Kieran agreed, turning back toward the shore with labored steps, the ocean resisting our departure just as it had our arrival. We emerged from the water, its chilling grasp reluctantly releasing us back onto land, leaving us soaked, shivering, but resolute.

I stumbled forward, the weight of my soaked clothes pulling at my limbs, but it was a burden I welcomed. The ocean swallowed my every step, greedily claiming more of me as I waded deeper into its embrace. My heart pounded, not just from the exertion, but from something else—release.

"Keep going," I muttered to myself, the taste of salt heavy on my lips. With each stride, the chill that had dug its claws into my flesh began to recede, replaced by a strange warmth blooming within my chest. It was freedom—a freedom that contested the biting cold, the ache in my bones, the gnawing pain that seeped from every muscle.

The sound of the waves crashing against the shore filled my ears, a constant thrum that seemed to sync with my own erratic heartbeat. They called out like a siren, but not one meant to lure me to my demise. Instead, they sang of absolution, washing away the sins clung to my conscience as surely as they erased footprints from the sand.

The water was so cold…but I wasn’t in pain. For the first time in what felt like forever, I wasn’t in pain.

The water lapped against my skin, a sensation as soothing as it was jarring. I could feel the remnants of last night's violence, of David and Amber Miller, dissipate with each ebb and flow, leaving behind a rawness—not of body, but of soul.

A laugh escaped me, unexpected and hoarse. It carried off on the wind, lost amidst the roar of the surf. Relief pumped through my veins alongside the adrenaline, an odd companion to the dread that had coiled tight around my chest only moments before.

"Tristan," Kieran's voice reached me, barely audible over the cacophony of our surroundings—waves, wind, the distant call of gulls. “Are you okay?”

I turned to face my brother, tears mingling with the seawater on my cheeks. The weight that had burdened me for so long suddenly felt lighter, as if the ocean had claimed it along with our grim cargo.

"I'm..." I choked on the words. "I was so scared."

“Can we talk about this on dry land?”

“Yes. Right.”

The ocean's chill nipped at my skin, but it was nothing compared to the cold dread that had settled in my bones. With every step back toward the shore, my heart grew heavier, as if each grain of sand I trampled was another weight added to an already unbearable load.

"Kieran," I called, my voice breaking through the morning stillness, hoarse and strained. He turned, his silhouette outlined by the burgeoning light of dawn. The sight of him—my brother,my confidant—was a lifeline in the tempestuous sea of my thoughts.

I stumbled, knees buckling, the physical torment of the night’s deeds clawing up my limbs.

I had no idea how I managed to stay on my feet for so long. I felt so nauseous.

The tears came unbidden, hot against my chilled skin. I collapsed against Kieran, my body wracked with sobs. His arms encircled me, steady and strong.

I had cried in front of my brother. A lot.

But I didn’t remember the last time I had sobbed like this. I didn’t remember the last time I had sobbed at all.

The sobs wracked my body, each one tearing through me like a physical force. I clung to Kieran, my fingers digging into the soaked fabric of his shirt. The cold of the ocean clung to us both, but I barely felt it anymore. All I could feel was the overwhelming surge of emotion pouring out of me.

“If you hadn’t been there, I wouldn’t have been able to protect them,” I said.

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Kieran's arms tightened around me, his voice low and steady in my ear. "I'll always be there, Tristan. You know that."

---