I listen intently.
“I was staying in an alley near one of their clubs when I walked past in the middle of the night and saw a few men trying to take advantage of one of the bartenders outside the service entrance.” He rolls his lips, a look of disgust pulling up his lip. “One of the men was holding her body against his chest with a gun to her head, while the other had his hand down her shorts. I thought I was hallucinating. I might have been tweaking at the time, but somehow, I managed to pull myself together enough to register what I was seeing. I was able to wrestle the gun out of the hands of the one, and a few seconds later, their bodies were lifeless on the concrete. Arden and his men heard the shots from inside and found me with the girl. The next thing I knew, I was on their plane, and they had brought me here.” He glances around the space before finding my face again. “Arden gave me a home. Helped me get clean because he saw more than just my addiction. He gave me a purpose.”
I blow out a raspberry. “And your real family?”
“They cut ties when I started using. I don’t blame them. It wasn’t until I got clean and something happened,” the column of his throat moves, “that I realized how important family is. I reached out and started mending what was broken.”
I hook onto something he said. I tread carefully. “You said you’ve been here twelve years. Was it Preston’s mom and sister’s deaths that brought on that realization?”
His eyes slice to mine, something ominous rousing there. A hurricane that’s threatening to destroy anything in its path. For a moment, I think it might be me, but then he blinks, and sadness replaces it, combined with something else I can’t quite place.
Determination maybe?
But that doesn’t seem right.
He pushes off the side, swimming away from me. “You’ve been busy. Knowing Preston, I doubt he’s the one who told you that.”
I pick up my wine glass, staring at the contents as I swirl it, the red liquid gliding up the edges of the glass like spilled blood. “What happened to them? His mom and his sister?” I mutter.
His raspy chuckle has my head tilting upward to find him scrutinizing me. “It’s not my past, so it’s not my story to tell.”
If anyone should understand that, it should be me. But I can’t help the little fireball of interest that scorches my chest, wanting to dive deeper into the man whose callouses run deeper than his hands.
I ask a different question. “Did you know them?”
Carter drags his wet hands over his face from where he stands in the center of the pool. When his attention finds me again, he groans. “If she were here, you two would get along. Both of you are stubborn in your own ways.”
The moment my mouth opens to ask who he’s talking about, the door to the pool opens. Both Carter and I gaze at Preston, standing shirtless in the doorway.
His hardened, suspicious look bounces between us. “Did I miss something?”
Avoiding his eyes, I chug the rest of my wine in one gulp as Carter swims to the other side of the pool.
Preston’s eyes feel like they're attached to every inch of my body. They are solid. Deadly. Untrusting, though something snapped between us in the medical center that day. He still doesn’t trust me, but something he said that day ferments in my gut, turning sour.
“I fucking know you’re working for that bastard. The one who has destroyed everything in my life.”
It registers now.
Someone took his mom and his sister from him.
Sure, this is the world he was born into and destined to rule, but after my conversation with Arden in the garden, I caught onto the hint that Preston wasn’t always this cruel and unforgiving. Maybe he was never entirely soft, but there’s a chance he’s far different now than he was then. Back when the good parts, the best parts, of his life were intact.
I always thought evil was ingrained in someone’s DNA—woven into their very being.
But now, as I stare into those dark bourbon eyes, I’m reminded that monsters can be made, too.
NINETEEN | KATE
Itoss my towel onto the boulder and slip off my flip-flops, turning around to take in the murky waters lapping at the rocky shoreline. Stars twinkle above, the ocean alive with moonlight that glitters across the surface like an earthly galaxy that’s pulling me in.
It's nearly two in the morning, but the nightmares flooding my sleep had me breaking out in a sweat. When I finally woke, hot tears drenched my pillow. The dream felt realistic, as if Xander had somehow slipped through the walls and stood in the shadows of my room, wearing that smile I used to find handsome but is now sinister and haunting in a way that has rotted my insides with fear.
I pulled my trembling body out of bed and tugged on one of the swimsuits Gretta put in my closet—a pink bikini that ties on both sides of my hips and around my neck. It's so late, nobody will see me. Or my scars. I can swim in peace, knowing I’m alone with whatever lurks in the water. Those creatures no longer scare me.
Heading to the pool crossed my mind, but something about the bright moonlight drifting through the windows pulled me tothe beach. Even in the summer, the waters greeting Maine are cold. I’m hoping freezing my ass off will chase off the demons and give me some reprieve before I try to sleep again.
Ambling down to the water, the first touch of the ocean has me sucking in a sharp breath. The further I walk, the more my skin pebbles with goosebumps. If I wasn’t awake before, I sure am now. And I don’t see prolonging my torture anymore. Inhaling a deep breath, I sink below the surface. The cold water rushes around me, attacking my skin like millions of tiny needles. The icy blanket extinguishes the blistering terror that’s had a hold on me. When my lungs start to burn, I pop out, sliding my hands over my hair to smooth it away from my face.
