Page 31 of Blind Devotion (Letters of Ruin #1)

The sea sloshed and splashed as he waded through it.

The smell and sound of it were everything, washing away the dread of my memories, but I wanted to feel it against me.

Wanted to know with bone-deep certainty that I had gotten away.

It didn’t make sense. I knew I wasn’t back there, but I needed this to clean the memories off me.

With a gentle shove to his chest, he set me down. My bare feet sank into the sand, my toes gripping at it, while the water lapped all the way to my thighs.

My knees buckled. I’d made it. I survived. I fell against him and cried into his muscular chest.

He didn’t say anything, just caressed my head and held me tight.

It was exactly what I didn’t know I needed.

I cried for the woman I once was. I cried for the woman I was forced to become.

I cried until I had no more tears left. And still he held me, murmuring soothing words into my hair.

I felt safe in that moment, so very safe, I wasn’t sure I could ever let him go.

“I remember,” I confessed against him. There were still some years in my past that eluded me. Unfortunately, this trauma was not one of them. “I remember Bogdani and everything from that fucking boat. Every bit of it. I’m glad you killed them.”

He tilted my face up and tucked my hair behind my ears. “I’m glad you survived.”

I kissed him then, gentle and soft, exactly what I knew we both needed.

“You don’t realize how you saved me, Adrien. This bullet”—I pressed his hand to my stomach—“ended it all. I killed Bogdani. I did it, but if you and your team hadn’t come, I wouldn’t have made it through his sycophants. You saved me.”

“No.” His thumb caressed my wet cheeks. “You saved yourself. You’re strong. The strongest woman I know, and it’s an honor to be here with you.”

“I hate that you killed the other women. They deserved better.”

“They did.”

“But I don’t hate you for it. What does that say about me?” More tears drained down my face.

“That you’re human. That you have a good heart that just needs to heal.”

“For threatening my death as many times as you did, you’re pretty good too.”

“No, ma p’tite rescapée , no, I’m not. Shoveling in my graveyard will dig up plenty of skeletons.”

“Meaning?”

“My soul is as dark as they come, with just enough light in it to see you.”

I buried myself against him, welcoming his warmth as the night air chilled my wet skin.

“I thought I’d never get free.”

“Is that what you want? Freedom?”

“Yes. To never have to be held against my will again. To never have my choices taken from me.”

Long, silent moments passed between us. His heart thumped frantically against my ear, such a dichotomy to the slow rhythmic flow of the waves.

“Then you have it.” The gritted words seemed to be pulled unwillingly from him.

“What?”

“You’re free to leave. None of my doors will be locked to you again.”

I licked my lips, gripping his shirt tighter. “What if I want to stay?”

“You said you wanted freedom.”

“I want the option. I want a say and to be listened to.”

“Then you’ll have that. But if you choose to stay, I’m not sure I’ll be able to let you go again. Can you live with that?”

I nodded.

“I need to hear you say it.”

“Yes,” I whispered.

Wrapped around each other, nothing else seemed to exist. Just those beautiful waves and the joy they offered.

A wave of dizziness gently settled over me. I didn’t fight it or brace against it. In Adrien’s arms, I let it take over, ready to handle another nightmare if need be.

It was laughter I heard instead. Children’s laughter.

“You can’t catch me,” yelled a girl with good cheer in English. “I’m the fastest.”

The world lit up with oranges and yellows, a blob spotlighting a scene.

A blurred image of a brightly lit beach took shape, slowly focusing, until suddenly, a girl rushed by barefoot in a loose bikini not fully adapted to her child frame.

Her footsteps tossed up sand as she took cover behind an elaborately designed sandcastle.

Waves rose and broke along the reef before swashing up shore and sinking into the sand.

Long black hair whipped around her smiling face.

A boy — tall, though not quite gangly, nor muscular — leaped over the sandcastle with a loud roar. His foot knocked over the tallest tower and crushed one corner of the design, but he kept on going until he snatched the child under his arm by the waist and pumped his other fist in the air.

“Got you. I won.”

She shrieked with laughter. “No fair. You cheated.”

“Did I?” His fingers dug in and tickled her sides.

Her laughs grew shrill and desperate. “Yes. Stop, stop, please. Adrien, stop.”

“Say I won, and I’ll let you go.” There was something familiar about his French accent.

It was strong and pronounced, some of the letters eaten up, but somehow clear.

His voice carried power even though it was softened with youth.

Compared to the flat-chested girl who couldn’t be older than ten, the boy had to be in his teens.

“Never. Never ever never, you pirate.”

“And you, petit démon , are too mischievous. How did I ever think you were a butterfly?”

The girl looked up at the boy, beaming. His dark-blue eyes sparkled with joy, softening out the scar that ran down the right side of his face.

“Because, silly, you think I’m pretty. Duh!”

“Oh, you have earned this.”

With the girl clutched to his side laughing, the boy raced to the water.

His feet slapped and splashed through the swell of water lapping at the shore, then waded further in until his knees were covered.

Then, as a wave surged, he tossed the girl in.

She surfaced seconds later, spitting out salt water, and shoved a surge of seawater at him.

“ Un vrai petit démon .” A real little demon. He retaliated. Back and forth, they splashed each other until she tired and gave up.

“Adrien,” a woman called in the distance. “Persetta. Lunch.”

“Race you back?” the girl challenged, still catching her breath. She started swimming to shore. “Last one back’s a rotten egg.”

“I will show you a rotten egg,” the boy called after her, but still he waited before she reached the shore to begin racing after her.

The images of the memory faded away before the children reached the blurred woman at the beach house along the sandy rise, but I didn’t need to see the next part to know what happened next. The boy—that girl’s very best friend—let her win.

It was a beautiful memory. I could still feel the heat of the sun on my face, the coolness of the water, and the sand between my toes, but the visuals stuck with me more.

The sea was mesmerizing, a deep foamy blue.

The sand glimmered between gold and gray.

Light clouds floated up ahead like puffs of fuzz.

The boy, Adrien. More than ever, I was certain there was a link between him and the Adrien here with me.

My fingers drifted up to Adrien’s face, searching for the one sure thing that would clear my doubt. His scar. I felt the grooves of it from chin to eyebrow, exactly where I remembered it. It was him. My Adrien. My paper boy. My lion. My eyes pricked and stung.

“Why are you smiling and crying at the same time?”

I chuckled and kissed him. “I’m so happy to be here with you.”

Nothing else needed to be said. We simply held each other under the moonlight, the dread of my horrors sweeping away with every lap of the waves. When it was time to go in, he swept me back into his arms, and I quickly drifted off in the comfort they provided.