Page 135 of Through the Water

I was an unnecessary risk—a threat to the lifestyle they’d all grown accustomed to.

My voice was surprisingly steady as I whispered the same words I’d once heard my mama say. “He’s going to kill me.”

Sadness clouded his features, but he forced a smile. “Not without going through me, he won’t. You’re mine.”

“N-n-no,” I stammered with sudden realization, unable to make myself say the words as I began backing away. It was somehow sicker than the thought of being murdered on Tristan’s orders. “I won’t do that—please!”

I’d been treading water since I got back, fighting to stay alive—to have a say in what happened to my body—only to have it end just steps from the wall.

Dean grimaced and immediately began shaking his head. “No, no, no. That came out wrong,” he rushed out, his tone gentle but firm. “I’m married—happily married, I might add. Besides, my wife could probably kick both our asses, blindfolded.”

I swallowed around the knot in my throat. “Then, why bring me out here?”

“Look, Ariana. I know what they did to you. I should have known when he brought you back and dismissed the guards from the house.” He shifted his jaw from side to side, avoiding my glare. “And I know what they’re going to try to force you to do. I just need you to trust me here, okay?”

My teeth came together in agitation. “Trust you? You’ll forgive me if I’m struggling with the concept right now. The last forty-eight hours have proven that no one can be trusted.”

“I’m the one who helped you escape the first time—”

“And?” I challenged, trying to make my tone seem indifferent as my heart began to beat wildly in my chest. “Where was I going?”

He lifted a shoulder. “I don’t know that—”

Of course not.

“What kind of a security guard are you?” I interrupted with a sigh, unable to hide my frustration. “And you want me to trust you? You work for Tristan. For all I know, you were the one responsible for my ‘accident.’”

He watched my tirade with a lifted brow before admitting, “I was tasked with keeping you safe, and I’ve failed twice now. I don’t intend to fail again.”

“By whom?” I argued, my chin raised. “Tristan? Nice try, but the good pastor doesn’t care about my safety, as evidenced by… well, I guess my entire life.”

Dean cut his eyes over to me in a quick glance before crossing the street, effectively ending our conversation.

“Seriously?” I complained as I reluctantly followed, my mind weighed down with more questions than answers. If he wasn’t operating under Tristan’s orders, then who was he working for? Where was he taking me? Was any of it going to save Killian?

Until he was willing to talk, I could only speculate.

A twig snapped beneath my shoe, and I realized we were following the same path I’d taken the day I saved Killian.

We reached the clearing, and I brought a hand up over my mouth, tensing against the memories washing up along the shore. I’d spent the first couple of years with my nose pressed to the window in the library, searching for his face among the colorful blurs dotting the water. After a while, it became too painful to look, a dark reminder of a life I’d never have.

“Ten minutes, and then we have to go.”

I lifted my eyes with a frown. “But you still haven’t told me why we’re out here.”

“Ariana.” Dean pointed behind me, his dark eyes sparkling with amusement. “Ten minutes. I’ll be right over there, waiting for you.”

Someone had fixed up the old dock, adding lights and a railing on either side. I sucked in a breath when I saw the man looking out over the water, and my mind fell silent for the first time in days.

Killian.

Less than ten feet away from me.

I wanted to run to him, but something in the hard set of his jaw told me I couldn’t. Instead, I dragged my feet over the sand, every bit the peasant girl who’d fallen in love with a prince.

Two different worlds—I’d known it then, but I felt it now.

He didn’t look up when I stepped onto the dock, just continued watching the lazy ripples along the surface of the lake. The hood of his jacket hid his profile, but I’d seen the unshaven dishevelment as I approached. I wondered when he’d last slept or eaten something of substance but kept the questions to myself.

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