Page 32 of What Remains

My legs suddenly give out, and part of me wishes I did fall right off that cliff. Just disappear and let the current in the river below carry me away. He crouches swiftly, hands anchoring beneath my armpits to catch me before I hit the floor.

“Let me fall, please.” My knees are hovering just above the wood floors, and he carefully does as I ask, going down with me. I park my ass on my heels and bury my face in my palms, hoping to hide my shame. “There were kids there. Families.” I let the harsh cry rip deep from my lungs. “And I doubt anyone could have survived that. All because I told her no the first time she asked for my password. She didn’t even give me a chance to try and save them.”

Next thing I know, I’m back in his lap again. I don’t even know how it happened, but he’s seated on the floor, and my cheek is pressed against his racing heart.

“I’m so, so sorry. I can’t imagine . . .” He abandons his words, and when I lift my head, I realize it’s because Zoey’s back.

Before I can even let the thought of a them pass through my mind (at such a bad time), I notice the mobile in her outstretched hand. It’s on speakerphone and ringing. “Is Wyatt with you?” she asks the second someone answers.

“Wyatt is⁠—”

“Dad!” I don’t cry, I scream, interrupting Carter. “D—dad?” I blink back tears as I wait for a response.

There’s silence on the other end. Something tells me it’s not because Carter didn’t hear me, but because he’s in disbelief. I’m hoping my dad is with him, and he’s about to hand him the mobile or place the call on speaker if it’s not already.

“Gwen?” Dad’s breath stutters through the line, slightly muffled at the end, like a hand slapping over his mouth.

Oh thank God.

“Gwen? Tell me that’s really you I just heard.” He says my name again, like he’s testing it out. Afraid he’s hallucinating. “Gwen . . . sweetheart?”

I try to speak, but my voice breaks. Chills fly down my body, and I drop my forehead to Easton’s shoulder and finally manage to eke out, “It’s me.” A shaky exhalation follows as I whisper, “He—he saved me, Dad. Easton saved my life.”

CHAPTER 11

Easton

Gwen is still tethered to me, fingers buried in my shirt, as Wyatt attempts to speak but keeps failing.

“I thought . . .” Wyatt sounds like he’s battling more than just tears. A whole world of emotion. I can relate. I experienced half a dozen in the space of seconds since I laid eyes on Gwen tonight.

“Is Gwen okay?” Natasha asks in the background. Her voice is small under the low hum and chatter of what sounds like a plane cabin.

“I’m, um, s—safe. I wasn’t hurt. Drugged, but not hurt.”

Regardless, she still needs to have a full medical workup done, but I can’t exactly help with that since it’s not my area of expertise. I can slit a man’s throat, but use a needle to draw someone’s blood? I’d probably puke. Makes total sense.

“I don’t understand why they brought me to where Zoey and Easton happened to be, but thank God they were here.”

Thank God, yes. Coincidence? No. I rub Gwen’s back in slow circles, wishing I could do more, like absorb her pain. Every last ounce of it.

“We’re in the air now. Heading to Brisbane.” Carter speaks this time, and his tone remains steady and measured. He may act like he’s fine, but I know he’s secretly been a mess. Not that he’ll cry in front of anyone other than his wife.

But how in the hell do they happen to be heading to Australia?

“We’ll redirect to where you’re at and get clearance to land,” he continues. “We’re about three hours out. You’re at the safe house, I take it?”

“We are,” Zoey answers for me.

I remain locked on to Gwen, doing whatever I can to keep her calm. I went from a killer to a comforter, without much room for a transitionary period.

“Jezebel got away,” Zoey drops the shit news, “but we took down most of the men on the compound before escaping.” She leans against the wall, one boot braced up like she needs something solid behind her.

“And she got away with my rig. My, uh, laptop, I mean. And my—my password, too,” Gwen stutters. “I—I had no choice. She, um . . .”

The hotel. I almost forgot about that horrific tragedy with everything that’s happened tonight. She’ll crush herself beneath guilt for it, too, and I can’t let her do that.

“I assume you all heard about the explosion at the hotel by now,” she whispers, lifting her eyes to the ceiling as I drop my hands to hold her arms again, “but that’s why she has my⁠—”