Henry collapsing.
“Ariana.” Blake’s voice pulled me back to the present.
I snapped my head toward him as he sat slouched in one of the leather chairs, exhaustion carved into every line of his face. His black shirt was rumpled, his dark hair disheveled. And the bandage beneath the collar of his shirt reminded me he was still recovering from his own injuries.
Yet he looked infinitely steadier than I felt.
“Maybe you should get checked out while you wait?” he suggested for what felt like the hundredth time. “It might take your mind off…everything.”
I immediately shook my head. “I’m fine.”
He narrowed his gaze at me. “They can give you something for that.” He nodded toward the brand that was visible under the scrubs I currently wore, the police having taken my dress as evidence.
“I’ll see someone once I know Henry’s okay.” I swallowed hard, wrapping my arms around myself. “Until then, I can’t think about anything else.”
If I stopped thinking about Henry surviving for even a second, I feared the alternative would consume me whole.
“He’ll pull through,” Blake assured me. “I know it.”
I sank into the chair beside him. “How?”
He reached over and squeezed my hand, a faint smile tugging on the corner of his mouth. “Because he’s without a doubt the most stubborn man I know. He’d probably tell Saint Peter to send him back because he had no intention of dying.”
“Assuming he’d make it to heaven.”
“He would. Despite it all, he’s a good person.”
I smiled sadly. “Yes, he is.”
I stared into the distance for a beat, the television mounted in the corner of the room catching my attention as a breaking news alert flashed on the screen. A reporter appeared with a split screen of an aerial view of a heavily wooded property, dozens of flashing lights visible against the darkness.
I straightened, my gaze focused on the screen.
“Breaking news tonight out of Star Lake, a small community approximately thirty miles east of Fort Myers, where a raid has uncovered what authorities are describing as a cult-like organization.”
A photo of Josiah appeared beside the aerial footage. Even seeing his photo made my skin crawl.
“This is Corbin Black,” the reporter continued, “although to the women and children he abducted, he was known as Josiah, or ‘Father’. Authorities believe Black was responsible for abducting nearly a thousand women and children over the course of the past several decades, many of whom were subjected to physical abuse, sexual assault, indoctrination, and murder.”
My stomach rolled violently, bile rising in my throat.
When I was there, I sensed Josiah — Corbin had been doing this sort of thing for a while. But to hear the scale at which he operated unsettled me even more.
“This investigation has also uncovered ties to hotel magnate Victor Kane and an extensive human trafficking operation allegedly run through several of his hotels, casinos, and nightclubs. Authorities have found evidence that Kane trafficked his own wife to Black, who was found alive at the compound tonight.”
Footage of me being wheeled into the hospital wearing that blood-stained white dress appeared on the screen, my face gaunt, hair disheveled.
Blake squeezed my hand, offering me assurance.
“You did good. None of this would have happened if you hadn’t insisted on going in.”
“Yeah, well, that asshole cut the tracker out of me so I’m not sure the plan worked exactly the way we intended.” I laughed under my breath. “For a while, I didn’t think you’d ever find me.” I furrowed my brows, pulling my hand from his. “How did you find me?”
“Josiah got cocky.”
“What do you mean?”
“When he cut out your tracker, he left a clue he didn’t think we’d be able to trace. But I could.”
