Through The Water: Fairest Series Book Two

by Myers, Shannon

  “Please,” I begged again, knowing it was falling on deaf ears. “I wasn’t kidnapped or abducted or any of the other bullshit you’re charging him with!”

  My father’s eyes briefly flashed with fury before he managed to blink, blink it away.

  “You’ve suffered a traumatic brain injury, little dove,” he explained, in a tone so utterly condescending it made me want to scream. “You’re not capable of making rational decisions right now. It’s obvious he took advantage of your mental state—”

  Tristan James was no man. He was a monster who used and discarded people for his own twisted amusement. A villain who preyed on fears and weaknesses, turning those around him into little more than husks.

  Chained. Beaten. Sold to the highest bidder.

  I would have endured all of it and more if it meant saving Killian. But monsters didn’t negotiate, not when they were convinced their way was the only way. Not when he had the opportunity to destroy someone I cared about.

  “No,” I gasped, my heart clenching painfully in my chest. Tears began sliding down my cheeks, but I refused to move. “I won’t let you.”

  Tristan was silent for a moment. I thought I’d gotten through to him when Killian spoke.

  “Just get it over with.”

  The words were like a punch to my belly, but it was the look of resignation on his face that left me doubled over, fighting to draw a full breath. I barely recognized him as the man who’d promised me forever just a few hours before.

  An arm went around my back, and I straightened to see it was only Georgia. “I’m here,” she said, lacing her fingers through mine.

  Killian stood frozen as they handcuffed him, his eyes dull and distant. There was no greater terror than watching the very thing you loved being ripped from your arms and knowing you were powerless to stop it.

  Everything hurt.

  I struggled against a sudden wave of dizziness as they forced him onto the elevator, unable to right myself before crumpling against her with a defeated whimper.

  “Remember, my dear,” she whispered in my ear while rocking my body with hers. “The smallest voices can be the loudest. You have to pick up your shield and fight back.”

  “I can’t,” I uttered brokenly.

  I knew how it was going to end. I’d always known. I just got caught up in how it all began, almost letting myself believe things could be different for me.

  But there were no happily-ever-afters here.

  25

  Ariana

  “Never laugh at live dragons…”

  -J.R.R. Tolkien, The Hobbit

  I woke at the sound of a key turning in the lock of my bedroom door, dragged from one nightmare and into another. One I was all too familiar with.

  As soon as the gates had closed, I’d been pulled from Tristan’s SUV by two armed guards. They’d marched me upstairs to my room. Just like a prisoner. I didn’t know how much time had passed since then, but it couldn’t have been long as the sky was still dark.

  I shouldn’t have slept at all, knowing Killian was in jail, and Tsega had been fired.

  All because of me.

  I’d been convinced Tristan had his little birds watching in the shadows, but never imagined Tiffani would be the one who’d give me up.

  My eyes, hot and swollen from my tears, burned as a sliver of light from the hallway cut across the bedroom. I didn’t need to see the figure entering to know who it was.

  I felt it, the same way I had as a child. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled while my muscles tensed in warning. There was a primal urge to flee, but nowhere to run. I held myself still, straining to hear him over the sound of my heartbeat thrashing in my ears. My bedroom door closed with a soft click.

  “Ariana,” Brad called softly. The floorboard near the foot of my bed creaked in protest as he bent to switch off my nightlight.

  “Now throw this useless servant into outer darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.”

  The silence was punctuated by the jangling of his belt buckle as he unfastened it and the groaning of the mattress coils as the bed dipped beneath his weight. “I know you’re awake, your breathing always gives you away. Sit up.”

  I jerked away when his hand connected with my calf and pressed my back to the headboard, pulling my knees to my chest. “Don’t touch me,” I forced out. “I’ll scream.”

  He snorted. “And here I thought you’d really taken to the idea of being an obedient and submissive wife—”

  “You’re not my husband yet,” I coldly reminded him, clenching my jaw to stop my chin from quivering.

  “That’s right,” he agreed, shifting closer. “But it seems my fiancée has suddenly gotten cold feet and needs to be reminded of who owns her.”

  I shook my head, stammering, “P-p-people can’t own p-p-people.”

  “Awww… your s-s-s-stutter’s back,” Brad mocked. “That’s good. After your display back at True North, I was beginning to think that quiet little girl was gone.” His hand moved to my cheek, and I raised my chin before pulling away.

  “I won’t be quiet,” I hissed in defiance. “Not anymore—”

  He caught my jaw in his hand, forcing my face back to his. “You’ll do as you’re told, sweetheart. And if you don’t—well, there are other ways of keeping you in line. Just ask your mama. Oh, that’s right, you can’t.”

  Mama.

  “What did you do to her?”

  It was too dark to see his face, but I knew he was smiling as he coldly replied, “Whatever we wanted to, little dove. Now, I’m not necessarily against keeping my wife on her back in bed, but I would prefer it if she had a little bit of spark. Makes it more fun that way, don’t you agree?”

  I dug my fingernails into the mattress. “Do you really think I’m going to marry you?”

  Brad forced a laugh and tightened his grip on my jaw. “Oh, you will. I’ll make sure of it. You see, your father already started spending my money, so I thought it was time to collect what I’m owed.”

  “But we’re not married,” I choked out, feeling the bile rising in my throat. The church—and Tristan—had preached abstinence before marriage. It was the one message I’d clung to when Brad had begun sneaking into my room.

  “What—didn’t think your little stunt would have consequences?” He shook my face before dropping his hands down to my leggings. “I’m not in the mood for games anymore. You wanted to humiliate me by running all over the city with the baseball player, and now your father’s left cleaning up the mess. Our wedding is on hold until the scandal dies down—”

  “There isn’t going to be a wedding.”

  He sighed. “For your sake, I hope you’re wrong, Ariana. I really do. It’s clear you’ve picked up some bad habits outside the walls, and it’s going to take a little time for you to unlearn them. I think I’ve been incredibly patient, but I’m ready to start a family and have no issues seeing you walk down the aisle with a swollen belly like some ruined woman. So, you can fight me or learn to submit properly. Either way, your body will remind you with every step what becomes of the wicked.”

  At the sound of his zipper, I planted my hands into his chest and shoved before scrambling over to cower on the opposite side of the bed. My breaths came in short, panicked bursts as I searched for something—anything—I could use as a weapon.

  Think, Ari.

  The coils squeaked again as he stood, laughing. I squinted, straining to find his shadow in the darkness before pushing my hand beneath the mattress, feeling. My fingers closed around the jagged piece of glass.

  Adrenaline flooded my veins, leaving me with a sudden sense of invincibility. The Hurricanes towel hadn’t been the only thing I’d taken from Ashlynn’s room. I’d also scavenged a broken mirror from her trash can, slipping the pieces in various spots beneath my mattress.

  Just in case.

  “Oh, little dove. You amuse me. You always have—” Brad pulled his belt off with a whoosh, cracking the leather in
his hands as he moved around the foot of the bed. “You can fight me now, but with the right motivation, you’ll learn to love being down on your knees soon enough.”

  “Never,” I spat, widening my stance just as I’d seen Ashlynn do in my dream, adjusting my grip on the glass. I would die before I let him touch me.

  You’re the only one who can end this.

  But I didn’t get the chance. Brad caught me as I bolted for the door and pushed me against the wall with enough force to knock the air from my lungs. While I was still hunched over, gasping and wheezing, he looped the belt around my neck and tightened it like a leash.

  When he yanked me forward, my legs buckled. Then, I was choking. My eyes bulged from the sockets and I let the glass slip through my fingers to claw at my throat, desperate for something I’d taken for granted only seconds before. The leather seemed to grow tighter the more I struggled to get my feet under me, yet I kept flailing and grunting.

  It only hurts if you let it…

  My vision blurred as the world around me spun like a merry-go-round, faster and faster until it felt like I was floating.

  One second.

  Two seconds.

  Three seconds.

  Brad hauled me to my feet and loosened the vice around my neck before tossing me onto the mattress like a piece of trash. I curled into the fetal position and coughed violently before gulping in ragged breaths. Despite my attempts to be brave, I began sobbing.

  He hooked his hands under my thighs, jerking my body toward the edge of the bed with a low growl. My muscles spasmed in response and for the first time in my life, I considered the possibility I wouldn’t make it out of this alive.

  I was going to end up like Ashlynn.

  “Now, here’s how this is going to go,” he snapped as he worked his dress pants down over his hips with one hand, keeping the other flat on my abdomen. “I’m going to ruin your body, and you’re not going to move a single muscle. Am I clear?”

  My breath caught as I tried to inhale through my swollen nostrils, sounding like a whimper. The belt hung around my throat like a grotesque necklace, a visual reminder of what would happen to me again if I didn’t obey.

  Brad stepped out of his slacks and kicked them aside before looming over me. “Open your mouth.”

  I mashed my lips together, praying he couldn’t see my disobedience in the darkness. He wrapped a hand around my jaw and squeezed until my lips parted, before spitting into my mouth.

  Tears pricked the back of my eyes. It was the most degrading thing I’d ever experienced, and he was only getting started.

  “Rule number one- answer me when I ask you a question. Are you going to be a good girl while I fuck the sin out of you?”

  I would never give him my consent or my body.

  Maybe it was nothing more than self-preservation or a last-ditch attempt by my brain to prevent further pain. Whatever the case, I recalled the aquarium and the living things locked in glass cages like trophies. With that, came another memory, one as vivid now as the day it had happened.

  I didn’t know why I’d taken Morgan’s convertible, but there wasn’t a doubt in my mind I’d be risking death if I came into my arranged marriage as anything other than a meek little virgin.

  A hymen was a symbol of purity—the only thing that made me valuable. Unfortunately, my horse, Pepper, had taken mine when I was eleven when she threw me from my saddle. My eldest sister, Aubrey, had helped me clean up before making me promise to never tell a soul.

  Tristan had no other daughters. Without Brad’s money, the entire organization would be crippled.

  You take down a monster by exposing it.

  Maybe I was the only one who could stop this. And death in battle was still preferable to a life spent in chains.

  “You’re too late,” I croaked hoarsely as his hand moved to the belt around my throat. “Killian.”

  The lie was bitter against my tongue, but I was no longer asking for forgiveness from any God who would allow this.

  Brad recoiled. “What?”

  Ignoring the wave of dizziness, I pushed myself up onto my elbows and forced out, “I’m not a virgin. I gave myself to Killian. If you don’t believe me, call Sister Helene to check.”

  He backed away from me and for a split second, I almost believed it was over. But then he lifted the lamp off my nightstand and hurled it at the wall with a guttural roar. “You slut!”

  The mattress suddenly tipped, and I tumbled backward, coming down hard on my left hip.

  “You were supposed to be mine!” he bellowed. “Mine!”

  I couldn’t see him, but the sounds of destruction told me he was still on the other side of the room. Something shattered as it hit the floor and I crawled to the nearest wall, tucking my arms and legs to my chest.

  The door flew open, and a shaft of light from the hall cut across the room, illuminating Brad—or at least, someone who used to be him. His skin was mottled with rage, the muscles and veins straining against his skin as he trashed my room.

  I winced when the overhead light flipped on, blinking until my pupils constricted enough for me to see that my bedroom floor was now littered with glass and splintered wood.

  Morgan stood by the switch with her hand pressed to her lips, scanning the room. When her eyes met mine, she nodded and tucked her back to the wall, side-stepping to avoid the half-naked mad man in the center of the room.

  Brad let out a harsh breath, and the room fell silent. I ignored Morgan’s outstretched hands and jerked my head back toward him, coming face to face with the very thing that had captured his attention.

  My treasures.

  All the things I’d diligently stowed beneath my bed over the years were now strewn across the floor like discarded toys.

  * * *

  Tristan stood in front of the fireplace in his office, his hands clasped behind his back. “You’ve been keeping things from me, little dove,” he said coldly.

  “So have you,” I bit out from the chair in front of his desk. My treasures had been spread across it like contraband. I balled my hands into fists against the armrests, keeping my eyes on his. Despite the fire burning a few feet away, I couldn’t stop shivering.

  Maybe because I knew what was to come.

  He shook his head, seemingly ignoring my accusation while staring absently into the flames. “Helene says it’s true—you united your soul with an unbeliever’s.”

  I tore my eyes from his profile and lowered my head, admitting, “I love Killian. If you’d just give him a chance—get to know him—”

  “Know him? What’s to know? He’s just like the rest of the world!” he roared, pivoting to face me. “Do you realize what you’ve done?”

  “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” I began, shrinking back when Tristan stalked toward me. “I didn’t want to fall in love with him, it just happened.”

  His nostrils flared as he grabbed my well-loved copy of Pride and Prejudice from his desk, waving it in front of the fire. “Your sins will cost you, little dove.”

  “Please,” I whispered, reaching toward him. “It’s mine.”

  Tristan tsked and tossed the book into the fire. “Nothing is yours.”

  I jumped to my feet with a strangled gasp, only to drop back into my chair when the vein popped out in his neck.

  “Why are you doing this?” I squeaked; my voice still rough from being choked. He moved behind my chair, forcing me to crane my neck to keep him in my sights. His large hands came down against my shoulders. I shuddered at the feel of his fingers curling over my collarbones.

  Tears blurred my vision as I brokenly whispered, “You’ve already won.”

  “How do you figure?” he mused. “I preach abstinence, and my youngest defiles herself with a baseball player. What will people say?”

  My shoulders sagged under the weight of his grip. “I won’t say a word.”

  Tristan released his hold on me and walked back to the fireplace, condemning Wuthering Heights to the same fate as
Pride and Prejudice. The cover curled and blackened beneath the flames, but I remained silent.

  One by one, I was forced to witness as the things I’d lovingly collected were charred beyond recognition. The only thing missing was Ashlynn’s Hurricane towel. I prayed it was because they hadn’t found it yet.

  After stoking the fire, he leaned against the mantle, watching me with a hardened expression. “It’s not you I’m worried about, little dove. How many times did I warn you about people who would try to hurt you to get to me? Men like that live for scandal and would gladly take down everything we’ve built.”

  I sucked in a ragged breath. “He wouldn’t—”

  “You don’t even know him,” Tristan snapped bitterly, before dropping down into the chair behind his desk. The deep lines etched in his face made him look tired.

  Tristan James, the titan, was gone.

  This man was frail.

  Fragile.

  “I used to be a lot like you, Ariana. In fact, it’s how I got my start as a pastor. Did you know that?”

  I shook my head, having always assumed he’d been born with a Bible in his hand.

  He gazed into the fireplace again. “I don’t share it with many people. In fact, I think your mama might have been the last person I told. I used to think the world was a broken thing in need of fixing. So, after high school, I climbed into my old Chevy and traveled the country, preaching in any church that would have me. Most turned me away once they realized I hadn’t attended seminary, thinking a piece of paper made a difference. Not long after, the money ran out. Things got pretty desperate. I felt like a complete failure and decided to end it.”

  My jaw went slack, but I said nothing.

  “I was living in my truck at the time. One night, I sat there, turning the gun over in my hands, trying to work up the courage to do it when there was a tap on the door. Seeing it was an elderly woman, I cranked the window down and asked if she needed help. Do you know what she said to me?”