Page 111 of Undertow

I lift my gaze to Julia. If I’m going to die, I want her to be the last thing I see.

After several long breaths, Adrian drops his arm with a curse.

“You will be restrained at all times,” he barks at me. “You make one move I don’t like, and this bullet is yours, got it?”

“Got it,” I say.

“Look at me when you say it!”

I meet his icy stare. “Got it.”

His gaze continues to sear into me as unspoken threats cloud the air around us.

“Good. Now, put your other hand behind your back. Julia?” he directs at his sister.

I obey as Julia pulls out the key and lowers herself beside me. I don’t resist when she releases the cuff on the chair and attaches it to my other wrist.

Once I’m secured, Adrian grips my arm and drags me to my feet.

“Sprinkles and glitter? What kind of princess-party you throwing, anyway?” he grumbles as he shoves me toward the exit.

I don’t respond to the taunt. There’s no point.

I certainly don’t tell him it’s the kind of party that means Merrick caught my hint that I’ve been compromised.

I winceas cold water blasts my aching body.

“Give it a second. It’ll warm up soon,” Julia says over the thunder of the shower.

Her gaze moves along my half-naked body, but I can’t read anything in it. Anger? Sympathy? Lust? There’s nothing to go on as she tells me to turn and face the wall.

“You won’t be getting off Undertow, so running is pointless.” She frees my right hand from the metal restraints, then moves to the left. “If you try, these are going right back on.”

I nod and flex my sore wrists at my side. The freedom feels good, but the tingling and numbness in my hands speak of nerve damage. It’s not the first time I’ve experienced that sensation. It won’t be the last.

“I have four guns hidden in this house and I’m an excellent shot,” she continues.

I turn to meet her warning stare. A brief flash of pain moves over her face, but she quickly covers it.

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” I say quietly. “What I felt for you?—”

“Don’t,” she warns. “I can’t right now, okay?”

She steps back and shuts the stall door between us. I watch her silhouette cross to the vanity, where it crouches down to fish through the cabinets.

My heart and mind are a mess as I spend the next few minutes trying to stay upright. The water stings every cut and bruise, but I’ve grown to like this pain over the years. It’s soothing in the way it burns and fades, burns and fades, like a pulsating beacon of life.

My movements as I bathe are slow and shaky, partly from the injuries, but mostly from the headache and dizziness. There’s no question the repeated blows to the head have resulted in a concussion. I don’t even want to know what a brain scan would look like after the life I’ve had.

“You okay in there?” Julia asks.

“Fine,” I reply. My voice sounds the opposite of fine, and I clear my throat.

With ginger movements, I push down my blood-crusted swim trunks and kick them to the corner of the stall. It’s probably been a day or two since I first put them on for my shiftat the bar. We’re back at Julia’s house with my suitcase, but I can’t guess what they’ve done with my belongings or what they’ll allow me to have. I’m sure everything has been thoroughly searched, although Julia must have removed my most sacred objects or I’d be in a much different situation.

“You have two more minutes,” she calls out. “I put a toothbrush and toothpaste here for you too.”

She’s now settled against the bathroom door, arms crossed. I can’t see details through the steamy glass, but I can read her impatience clearly.