Page 164 of What Remains

The safe house lights are already on when we roll through the gate. Wind drags through the trees, rattling bare branches against the roof. No neighbors out here. Just darkness pressing in from every direction.

Easton helps me out of the SUV, his hand firm at my elbow while his gaze sweeps the perimeter—windows, roofline, shadows, then finally to Zoey being pulled from a second vehicle. Every muscle in my body goes rigid in anger at the sight of her, my molars grinding hard enough to hurt.

“Let’s, uh, get you inside,” Easton says.

Once we’re through the front door, he and Dad steer me to the couch in a living room.

“I’ll be back soon, okay?” Easton bends in and kisses my forehead, then shoots Dad one quick look before taking off, nearly bumping into Gideon who’s on his way in.

He nods his hello, then sets Julian’s rig on a nearby table before heading over to the fireplace to start it with a flick of a switch.

Only a few minutes pass before I look up to see Julian in the doorway with his sister. Knowing him, he declined everything except the most basic medical treatment.

Firelight deepens the bruises across his face, and shadows pool in the hollows of his eyes as he quietly studies me like a man in mourning.

Hollis and Gideon box him in on his way to a chair by the fire. Julian lowers himself carefully.

Unable to stop myself, I stand and cross the room, guilt taking me down to a knee by his chair. This is my fault.

He leans back, winces sharply, then pitches forward in agony.

She whipped you, too, didn’t she? The realization hits like a physical blow. Rage burns hot and useless in my chest. How many people did that woman scar before she was put down?

“I’m ready,” Julian says, eyes on his brother. “You can bring her in.”

Gideon nods and disappears from the room, while Hollis stands on the other side of his chair like a drawn blade, silent and lethal.

Julian keys in on me next, like I’m code he can’t decipher. “Get off the floor, will ya?” A faint ghost of a smile accompanies his semi-teasing tone, before pain wipes it away.

I stand just as Carter and Easton return, and Zoey’s caught in the crosshairs between them. She looks wrecked. Pale, with deep circles under her eyes. Her hair is disheveled and pulled into a messy knot. Dark bruises that look an awful lot like fingerprints ring her throat. Carter’s holding her arm like she might bolt. Or maybe collapse.

I wring my hands together as our eyes meet, and one lone tear slides down her cheek.

Carter urges Zoey down into another armchair—a comfortable distance away from Julian, smart man—and Easton wastes no time in leaving her side to get to me.

He frees my locked palms so he can wrap his fingers protectively around my hand.

“I’m sorry.” Zoey’s voice is flat and scraped raw. The warrior from the island is gone. In her place, an empty shell of her old self. A little pity punches through me before I can stop it. “I was lied to. I believed that you⁠—”

“Killed Preston,” Carter finishes harshly. “You saw a fake video of me taking his life, right? And you fucking believed it?”

She nods hesitantly, twisting her fingers together, then cringes as someone’s boots scuff down the hall outside. “Molly’s like an older sister to me. My best friend. After Preston died, she was the only family I had.” She sinks farther into the chair without letting her back touch the leather. “I know how this all must look, but this isn’t her fault.”

I’m sorry, but what?

“Both Molly and I were played from the start.” She raises a shaky hand as if she can stop any accusations before they start. “Let me explain, please.”

We defer to Carter on that, and he extends a quick nod in agreement.

“You weren’t supposed to be taken, let alone hurt.”

I know she’s talking about me—to me—but I find myself focusing more on the dust motes in the air than her. Maybe because it’s too hard to look her in the eyes.

“They were only supposed to take your laptop. I swear, Gwen, I would never have agreed to anything that put you in danger.”

The betrayal that hadn’t quite landed yet makes a dramatic crash, sending me a step forward, and Easton goes right along with me. So does Dad. He’s on his feet in an instant, and I’m sheltered between fatherly love and . . . love love.

“I was kidnapped,” I practically rage. I know I’m stating the obvious here, but it has to be said again. As well as the words no one should ever have to utter. “Almost raped.”