Page 150 of Through the Water

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Ariana

“I had not intended to love him; the reader knows I had wrought hard to extirpate from my soul the germs of love there detected; and now, at the first renewed view of him, they spontaneously revived, great and strong! He made me love him without looking at me.”

-Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

Itightened the belt on the fluffy robe I’d found hanging in the hotel bathroom and settled back against the pillows, trying to warm up. My skin had been scrubbed until it was raw in places, but nothing could take away the horror of what had been on that thumb drive.

After being reunited with Killian and Morgan in a five thousand square foot Presidential Suite near Tanglewood, I’d stood under the showerhead for as long as possible, letting the steaming water turn my skin red.

Inside, I was still ice cold.

Murder. Attempted murder. Conspiracy to commit murder. Coercion. Bribery. Fraud. Human Trafficking.

It was worse than anything I could have ever imagined.

The FBI was calling it one of their biggest busts—celebrities, politicians, billionaires—the list of people involved could have filled every seat in Eagle Lake, and probably had at some point. Millions of dollars were siphoned from the church and into Trident Holdings, Tristan and Brad’s fake company.

My sisters had been auctioned off like property to the highest bidders, but the corruption hadn’t ended there. Urban Mission and the various other outreach programs meant to aid at-risk youths had been used to identify and exploit potential targets.

Convinced he was above the law and would never be caught, Tristan had kept meticulous records detailing their crimes. Tsega believed they were his trophies, or perhaps an insurance policy should Brad ever decide to turn him in. As it was, the two of them were going to be spending the rest of their lives locked up.

My mama’s original autopsy report was among the documents found. There’d never been a brain aneurism. She’d loved him—enough to try to stop what he was doing—and in return, he’d drugged her into permanent silence.

We’d probably never know whether her death was accidental or not, but it didn’t change the fact he’d stolen her from us.

Killian slipped into the bedroom, carrying a large plastic bag. “Hey, Dean grabbed dinner. Morgan’s still asleep, so I thought we’d eat in here. We’ve got—” He began pulling out containers and lining them on the credenza near the foot of the bed. “Potstickers, egg rolls, wonton soup, chicken fried rice, and beef and broccoli.”

My chest heaved with a sudden sob. I brought the back of my hand up over my mouth, trying to smother the sound. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

He let the empty bag drop to the floor, before pulling me off the bed and into his arms. “I’ve got you, girl,” he murmured, stroking my damp hair. “You’re safe now.”

“What if I’m broken?” I buried my head against his chest with a loud hiccup. “I think I might be broken. I can’t stop shaking, Killian. Why can’t I stop shaking?”

Grief and rage blurred my vision, tinging my voice with hysteria.

“Baby.” His hands over my hair and down my back, grounding me. “You’ve gotta try to eat something. Dean said you hadn’t kept anything down since last night. Just tell me what sounds good.”

“I’m not hungry.”

His eyes blazed with something I couldn’t quite identify as he led me back over to the bed. After pressing a kiss to my forehead, he left the room, returning a minute later with a small glass of amber liquid. “Drink this.”

“What is it?” I took it from his hand and sniffed, only to recoil immediately. “Alcohol?”

Killian sat down beside me and took one of my feet in his hands, stroking along the arch. “Whiskey. You need it. You’re in shock—hell, anyone would be if they’d been through what you have in the past seventy-two hours. C’mon, drink up.”

I took a hesitant sip, shuddering as the liquor burned its way down to my belly. My face scrunched up, and I croaked, “How do people drink this stuff?”

That earned me a small smile. “Practice—lots and lots of practice.”

I forced a little more past my lips until my limbs flooded with heat, and the world didn’t feel like such a dark place. “What do we do now?”

“Whatever we want.” He passed me a container and some chopsticks, before reclining against the pillows. “But first, you have to eat something.”

After a brief struggle, where I only managed to snag a single grain of rice, I groaned, “How do you use these damn things?”

“Here. Like this.” Killian snagged a piece of beef and brought it to my lips. “Open.”

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