Through The Water: Fairest Series Book Two

by Myers, Shannon

  “No,” I whispered, my heart somewhere in my throat.

  The corner of his mouth lifted. “She told me that God had a plan for my life and that I was going to be raised up to lead the flock back to the shepherd. My children would be known among nations, and all who saw would recognize them as a sign of God’s strength. I felt hope like I hadn’t in years when I came back here. I took out a loan to buy the land we’re on and set us apart from the world.

  “You see, salvation was meant to be exclusive. Once I figured that out, the flock began arriving in droves, just as the old woman had said. Your sisters were born with dark hair and, for the most part, were quiet babies. Not you, though,” he chuckled softly.

  The flames in the fireplace flickered, casting eerie orange shadows across his face and making his smile seem sinister. The hairs on the nape of my neck lifted. I hugged myself while my mind scrambled to decode the danger in his words.

  His smile faded, and he bit down on his lower lip. “You came into this world with a cry so loud it could be heard beyond the walls of the community. You looked just like your mama with those wild red curls. I thought it was a sign you were special. Instead, you’ve ripped the prophecy to shreds by sinning against yourself.”

  “Is that all I am to you?” I asked, fighting back tears. “An unfulfilled prophecy? A threat to your kingdom? All I’ve ever wanted was for you to love me like you love the church!”

  “I do love you, Ariana,” Tristan admitted quietly, leaning forward to rest his forearms against the desk. “You know, if I’m honest, Brad isn’t the man I imagined you marrying. There’s a softness about you that the world’s never been able to touch. And you have a heart like your mama’s, always seeing the good in everything.”

  As much as I’d steeled myself for this meeting, I was not prepared for this. I’d tried hardening my heart, but his words had undone everything. I began to weep over the idiocy of it all. He’d taken the people I loved away but left me with the very thing I’d wanted since I was five.

  Why were my prayers answered now? And why had it come at Killian’s expense?

  “If you love me, why’d you sell me to a man who would do this?” I countered with a sob, lifting my chin to expose the marks on my throat. “He started sneaking into my room when I was eleven, wanting to know if I’d bled yet and reciting scriptures at me like they were curses. Maybe I destroyed a prophecy, but you—you let evil into your house!”

  I slapped a hand over my mouth and collapsed against the back of the chair, shaking uncontrollably.

  I’d done it.

  “Brad? I didn’t know—” Tristan made a choking noise, the color draining from his face. “You never said a word.”

  “He said no one would believe me.”

  “If I’d known it was happening, I would have dealt with it then. Brad is my business partner… my friend.” Something like grief clouded his features. He cleared his throat and slow-blinked until the mask of indifference fell back into place.

  “You have to understand—the church had been trying to expand for years, but even with new members joining every week, the tithes alone weren’t enough to cover the cost of building a larger campus while maintaining our lifestyle.”

  “But then Brad sold two of his companies,” I stated flatly. My mind replayed every agonizing second of the day I learned I’d been bought.

  “At the time, I didn’t see any other way. There are so many people depending on the church, little dove—on me. I can’t do it all on my own anymore.” He turned back to the fire and covered his face with his hands, muffling his next words. “I need you, Ariana. I need you to help me make things right.”

  “I’ll help you,” I whispered as I approached him, placing my hand on the arm of his chair. My resolve crumbled in the face of his pain and I knelt at his feet, compelled to bridge the gap between us. He’d finally come to his senses. “We’ll fix this together, okay?”

  And we would too.

  First, we’d go to the police station so I could explain that Killian hadn’t taken me from True North against my will. Then, we’d ensure Tsega got her job back. And when Tristan got up in front of the church and told them how religion had blinded him to the truth, I’d be standing by his side.

  “You will?” He asked, lowering his hands to cover mine. I nodded and he let out a breath. “We’ll call a press conference.”

  I squeezed his fingers, trying to find the right words to convey my gratitude. “I think that’s a good plan. The church won’t turn their backs on your honesty.”

  “You mean your honesty, Ariana.”

  I tore my eyes from where our hands were joined, peering up at him in confusion. “Mine?”

  Tristan nodded, trapping me against his leg. “You’re going to tell the press that Killian Reed raped you.”

  I choked on the saliva that had pooled in my mouth before spluttering, “No! That never happened—Killian would never!”

  I’d knelt in front of a monster, stupidly believing I could appeal to the parts of him that still held some affection for me. But he’d never cared about anyone beyond himself.

  “Initially, I was skeptical too. A scandal of this magnitude is almost impossible to cover up, but Brad said he’d be willing to overlook your indiscretion if you admitted you’d been forced. God is already turning your trial into a testimony, little dove.”

  “I lied!” I hissed, fighting against his ever-tightening grip. “Killian and I never had sex! I just didn’t want Brad to hurt me! It was Pepper—I fell off Pepper! Ask Aubrey, she knows!”

  He chuckled, shaking his head at me like I was nothing more than a precocious child. “Helene checked you and said it was evident you’d been with a man—”

  “No—Helene’s not even a real nurse!” I cried, my shoulders slumping forward. “I haven’t, I swear it! Please, you have to understand, Killian’s a good man—”

  “Can a man scoop fire into his lap without his clothes being burned? Can a man walk on hot coals without his feet being scorched? So is he who sleeps with another man's wife; no one who touches her will go unpunished. Your body was never yours to give away, Ariana. It belonged to Brad,” Tristan growled, squeezing my wrist.

  “You’re h-hurting me,” I stammered, clawing at the back of his hand to break his hold. I wanted to find Killian and run away. We’d go to Denmark or Finland—someplace where Tristan could never find us.

  I could keep him safe.

  He rose from his seat and began dragging me toward the fireplace when the string on my baseball bracelet gave with an audible snap. “What’s this?”

  “It’s mine!” I scrambled to my feet. “Give it to me!”

  With a smirk, he raised it over his head. “Agree to the press conference, and it’s all yours, little dove.”

  Shit. Damn. Hell.

  I moved onto my tiptoes, sweat trickling down my spine as I tried to reach the bracelet. “I won’t condemn an innocent man, Tristan. Not even for you.”

  He cocked his head to the side and exhaled a soft laugh, “If you don’t, we’ll lose Brad’s donation. And if that goes, I may as well admit my entire ministry was a sham.”

  “I’ll go to the police,” I vowed over the crackling of the logs in the fireplace. “I’ll tell them what you did to Ashlynn and what you’re trying to do to Killian.”

  “Ashlynn?” He drew in a sharp breath, blanching at the mention of her name.

  I nodded earnestly, my voice trembling. “You killed her because she wouldn’t obey. You’ll have to kill me too because I won’t stop running. I won’t stop fighting.”

  Blink. Blink.

  His lips curled in a slow smile. “Little dove, I’ll deny you death even when you’re begging for it.”

  “Listen to me, Tristan. I’m never going to be obedient. Do you know why? Because hungry dogs are loyal to no one, so you may as well end it now.”

  “Oh, I hear you,” he calmly replied, even as his nostrils were flaring. “Now, you hear me. With your br
ain injury, I was granted guardianship. I control where you go, who you talk to—even who you don’t talk to. You’ll do what you’re told, and then you’ll marry Brad as planned. Is that clear?”

  “You don’t love me,” I whispered, my voice almost gone. “If you did, you’d want to protect me from men like Brad.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, little dove,” he tsked. “Love is sacrifice. Now, if you’re willing to die to yourself and step into the role you were created for, you’ll find life is much sweeter. Brad is willing to love you, but you’ve got to put in the work.”

  I was still trying to wrap my mind around his warped version of a Sunday morning sermon when he tossed my bracelet into the fireplace. I dove forward, wildly grasping at the air. My knees landed against the hardwood with a loud squeal. Flames engulfed the leather almost immediately, but I kept going, fully prepared to climb in after it.

  If he wouldn’t end this, I would.

  Maybe Killian had been right all along. No God was watching over us from above. It was just some lie we told ourselves.

  Tristan hauled me up by the neckline of my shirt and returned me to the chair, raising a finger when I jumped to my feet again. “Before you attempt to martyr yourself, Joan of Arc, I’ve got something I want you to see.”

  He held up his cell phone, and my mouth fell open. It was a video of Killian, being led out of a building with his father on one side and a man I didn’t recognize on the other. It was a media circus. He used his jacket to shield his face, but not before I saw the flash of terror in his eyes.

  My God, they were going to crucify him because of me.

  Seeing him stripped away my blanket of numbness, bringing me face to face with his pain. I forced myself to take deep breaths, fighting the urge to hyperventilate, or vomit. Maybe both.

  “How did you get this?”

  “Killian’s father bailed him out of jail a couple of hours ago,” Tristan explained with a shrug before tucking the phone back into his pocket.

  My chin quivered, but I refused to lower my head. “I won’t send him back there.”

  “You’re the reason he was arrested, Ariana. Do you really think he’s going to want you after all this? If his lawyers are any good, they’re telling him to deny everything to make you look like a liar. He’s going to hate you.”

  I touched my wrist, only to be reminded that Tristan had destroyed my source of strength along with everything else I held dear. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, seeing Killian’s face—hearing his words.

  Love is the only thing strong enough to drive out fear and doubt.

  “It’s not about me.” I stood and walked around the desk to him, smiling for the first time since I’d left Killian. “Because love is not self-seeking. It’s patient, and it’s kind. Love does not dishonor others but protects them always. But more than anything, love never fails! You preach the words, but you don’t listen! So, do what you want, but I’m not going to move!”

  He sized me up with a smirk before clapping slowly. “Very good, little dove. I’m impressed.”

  “I’m not doing the press conference. You can burn my things and keep me locked away like a prisoner, but I won’t do it.”

  “Yes, you just said that.” He walked over to stand in front of the fire, whistling one of my songs. I swallowed hard and glanced down at the large glass cross on his desk, wondering if it was sturdy enough to be used as a weapon. Three deep lines on the forehead meant trouble, while whistling indicated he was close to a blackout rage.

  Keeping his back to me, he added, “Last week we held a funeral for a man who was killed while crossing the street. It sounds like a freak accident, but it happens more often than you’d think. People don’t always look both ways, or maybe the person behind the wheel is drunk. Driving’s not much better. Tires blow, and brakes go out—even the computer systems can be easily hacked. You just can’t be too careful nowadays.”

  I clutched the desk to keep myself upright, panting, “What are you saying—you caused my accident?”

  The pedals not working… the radio and lights going on and off—what if it hadn’t been a nightmare?

  He spun on his heel with a wide grin, swinging the fireplace poker like it was a baseball bat. “Don’t be silly, sweetheart. Just thinking out loud. There are a lot of ways to encourage people to change their minds, don’t you think?”

  I backed up a step, shaking my head. “But I did everything you said! I followed the rules!”

  “What makes you think I’m talking about you? You know—” He cracked his neck and swung the poker, the air whistling from the momentum. “I actually wanted to be a baseball player as a kid.”

  I stumbled over a power cord jutting out from beneath the desk but quickly regained my footing and continued backing toward the door.

  “Paul, in his letter to the Corinthians, wrote, ‘But when I became a man, I put away childish things.’” Tristan swung again, this time sending a stack of papers sailing over the edge of the desk. “These athletes live like they’re gods—free to take whatever they want, whenever they want! But there’s a cost—there’s always a cost! ‘All at once, he followed her, like an ox going to the slaughter; like a deer stepping into a noose til an arrow pierces his liver, like a bird darting into a snare—little knowing it will cost him his life.’”

  To him, I’d always been the exotic collectible—the rare find that was worth millions—and Tristan had just discovered the one way to ensure I stayed locked behind glass forever.

  Killian.

  I stilled as years of bottled-up hurt came to a head, before launching myself at him with a snarl. Tristan’s delusions had only grown stronger in my absence. He was committed to his narrative, no matter how far it was from the truth. Ashlynn’s death. My car accident. Killian. There was always going to be someone standing in his way. The ground could be littered with bodies, but as long as it furthered his kingdom, he’d gladly rule over a wasteland.

  “You goddamned asshole!” I shrieked, connecting with his forearm as he brought it up to deflect my blows. Killian’s curses tumbled from lips as I raked my nails over Tristan’s skin, drawing blood to the surface. Flames danced in his eyes, making the whites appear to be glowing.

  The muscles in his neck stood out like cords as he threw his head back and laughed, before dropping the poker to the floor with a clatter.

  He no longer needed it.

  Tristan had finally found something I was powerless against. Killian was my greatest weakness, and he knew it.

  I staggered back jerkily, bringing my hands up to protect my head, pleading, “I just want to keep him safe. Please, I’ll do it, just don’t hurt him.”

  “Attagirl,” he praised, stalking toward me. “In the Gospels, John states, ‘Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.’”

  Pretend like you never went back to True North…

  Pretend you’re safe in Killian’s arms…

  Pretend you’re somewhere else…

  Freedom. Safety. They’d never been anything more than illusions.

  Pretend it only hurts if you let it…

  26

  Ariana

  “She had not known the weight until she felt the freedom.”

  -Nathaniel Hawthorne, The Scarlet Letter

  The one thing I could count on when the world slipped off-axis was being left alone for days, sometimes even weeks afterward. My duties were reassigned, and all of my meals delivered up to my room. Like a mint on a pillow from one of those fancy hotels Tristan stayed in, each tray arrived with a wrapped present.

  Sometimes, it was a new cross-stitch pattern or a coloring book. If Tristan had been particularly rough, I could expect a couple of pieces of jewelry. I’d never been able to determine if the gifts were sent in apology, or to buy my silence. Not that I spent much time considering it.

  If I wasn’t sleeping, I was staring up at the ceiling, watching the shadows cast by both the sun and moon. I
stayed in my cocoon of numbness for as long as possible, moving only when it was absolutely necessary.

  Which made my current situation all the more confusing. I was on day two of recovery. By all rights, I should have been lying in bed and wallowing in my misery, undisturbed. Instead, I was inexplicably sitting on a small stool inside the ensuite bathroom, letting Morgan braid my hair.

  “Hold still,” she ordered around the bobby pin between her lips. “I’m almost done.”

  It was just after midnight when she snuck in and forced me into the shower. My body hadn’t even begun to stink. That usually happened around day five, when the sheets stuck to my damp skin and my hair was slick with oils.

  The last time I stepped foot in a shower, Killian had been there. His scent had lingered on my skin as I faced Tristan, comforting me—making me believe I wasn’t fighting alone.

  Now, he was completely gone. I’d watched as the last traces of him swirled around the drain before disappearing completely.

  And yet, I still didn’t know why Morgan had come.

  “I want to go back to bed now,” I grumbled hoarsely, trying not to look at my reflection in the mirror. I was no longer so goddamned beautiful.

  I was nothing more than an empty shell of my former self.

  Dark shadows rimmed my lower lashes, almost identical to the necklace of bruising around my throat. My green eyes had a haunted look about them. I didn’t remember much of what happened in Tristan’s office other than the sharp, metallic tang of blood from biting down on my tongue to keep from screaming.

  She went silent for a moment, pursing her lips as she looped the elastic around the end of my hair. “Tristan scheduled a press conference for noon at the church. It’s not just the local affiliates, either. From what I understand, the major networks have flown in as well.”

  “Excuse me,” I mumbled, before slipping off the stool to crouch in front of the toilet, expelling what little food and water I’d taken in over the past several days.