Chapter 38
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Ariana
The waiting room smelled of burnt coffee, antiseptic, and pungent flowers.
The scent clung to the back of my throat with every breath as I paced the length of the private room the hospital staff had ushered us into hours ago to shield us from the press, especially considering I’d been missing for weeks at this point.
Bright fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, harsh and unrelenting, while muted voices drifted from the hallway. Nurses. Doctors. Families receiving news that would either destroy them or provide them much-needed relief.
I’d love nothing more than to feel some sort of relief myself.
My gaze darted toward the clock on the wall. It was now a few minutes past midnight.
Henry had been in surgery for over four hours.
Four hours since I’d last peered into his green eyes.
Four hours since I pressed my hand to his wound, desperately trying to stop the flow of blood.
Four hours since he begged me to forgive him before he lost consciousness.
I pressed the heels of my palms against my eyes, but it did nothing to stop the images flashing behind them.
The gunshot.
The scream that tore from my throat.
Blake firing back.
Henry collapsing.
“Ariana.” Blake’s voice pulled me back to the present.
I snapped my head toward him as he sat slouched in one of the leather chairs, exhaustion carved into every line of his face. His black shirt was rumpled, his dark hair disheveled. And the bandage beneath the collar of his shirt reminded me he was still recovering from his own injuries.
Yet he looked infinitely steadier than I felt.
“Maybe you should get checked out while you wait?” he suggested for what felt like the hundredth time. “It might take your mind off…everything.”
I immediately shook my head. “I’m fine.”
He narrowed his gaze at me. “They can give you something for that.” He nodded toward the brand that was visible under the scrubs I currently wore, the police having taken my dress as evidence.
“I’ll see someone once I know Henry’s okay.” I swallowed hard, wrapping my arms around myself. “Until then, I can’t think about anything else.”
If I stopped thinking about Henry surviving for even a second, I feared the alternative would consume me whole.
“He’ll pull through,” Blake assured me. “I know it.”
I sank into the chair beside him. “How?”
He reached over and squeezed my hand, a faint smile tugging on the corner of his mouth. “Because he’s without a doubt the most stubborn man I know. He’d probably tell Saint Peter to send him back because he had no intention of dying.”
“Assuming he’d make it to heaven.”
“He would. Despite it all, he’s a good person.”
I smiled sadly. “Yes, he is.”
I stared into the distance for a beat, the television mounted in the corner of the room catching my attention as a breaking news alert flashed on the screen.
A reporter appeared with a split screen of an aerial view of a heavily wooded property, dozens of flashing lights visible against the darkness.
I straightened, my gaze focused on the screen.
“Breaking news tonight out of Star Lake, a small community approximately thirty miles east of Fort Myers, where a raid has uncovered what authorities are describing as a cult-like organization.”
A photo of Josiah appeared beside the aerial footage. Even seeing his photo made my skin crawl.
“This is Corbin Black,” the reporter continued, “although to the women and children he abducted, he was known as Josiah, or ‘Father’. Authorities believe Black was responsible for abducting nearly a thousand women and children over the course of the past several decades, many of whom were subjected to physical abuse, sexual assault, indoctrination, and murder.”
My stomach rolled violently, bile rising in my throat.
When I was there, I sensed Josiah — Corbin had been doing this sort of thing for a while. But to hear the scale at which he operated unsettled me even more.
“This investigation has also uncovered ties to hotel magnate Victor Kane and an extensive human trafficking operation allegedly run through several of his hotels, casinos, and nightclubs. Authorities have found evidence that Kane trafficked his own wife to Black, who was found alive at the compound tonight.”
Footage of me being wheeled into the hospital wearing that blood-stained white dress appeared on the screen, my face gaunt, hair disheveled.
Blake squeezed my hand, offering me assurance.
“You did good. None of this would have happened if you hadn’t insisted on going in.”
“Yeah, well, that asshole cut the tracker out of me so I’m not sure the plan worked exactly the way we intended.” I laughed under my breath. “For a while, I didn’t think you’d ever find me.” I furrowed my brows, pulling my hand from his. “How did you find me?”
“Josiah got cocky.”
“What do you mean?”
“When he cut out your tracker, he left a clue he didn’t think we’d be able to trace. But I could.”
Blake pulled his phone out of his pocket and, after tapping at it, turned the screen toward me, displaying a photo taken in what appeared to be a barn.
Drawn in blood across the cement floor was the same symbol branded into my skin.
And Blake’s skin, too.
My hand instinctively drifted toward my chest, the wound still raw and aching.
“My sister and I were taken when we were kids,” he explained quietly, answering the question lingering between us.
I reached for his hand without thinking, trying to offer him the same comfort he’d provided me all night.
“I’m so sorry, Blake.”
“His name was Isaac.”
I tilted my head. “Not Josiah?”
“No. But Josiah was another one of his so-called ‘lost children’. He branded my sister and me the first week. Gave us new names. Said it was proof God chose us for salvation.” His expression darkened. “Really, it meant we belonged to him.”
Rage coursed through me. Not at Isaac. At a world that allowed monsters like him to prey on children. Abduct them when they were most vulnerable. Brainwash them to believe whatever they were told for fear of retribution or correction if they didn’t.
“But you escaped,” I said softly, filling in the blanks.
He nodded once.
“How?”
“I made him think I believed in his bullshit.” His voice turned hollow. “Did things I’m not proud of to earn his trust. One night, when he invited me to play chess, I grabbed a knife and stabbed him. Took some cash from his wallet and left.”
“And your sister?”
Pain and regret flickered across his face.
“I’d helped her escape years earlier. After I got out, I tried to look for her, but she changed her name, like I’d told her to. I knew her as Chandler Meadows, so that’s who I was looking for.”
“Did you figure out what she changed it to?”
“Thanks to Henry, I did.”
I scrunched my brow. “Henry?”
“He knew her as Amber Fuller. She’s Sarah’s birth mom.
” He laughed under his breath as he shifted his eyes forward.
“All this time, I’d been looking for her when she was right in front of me all along if I’d just told Henry about her.
But that would have meant telling him about me.
Where I came from. What I’d been through.
” He met my eyes. “I wasn’t ready for that. ”
I squeezed his hand. “I’m glad you finally got the closure you needed.”
“Me, too.”
For a moment, neither of us spoke, the sheer weight of everything he’d endured settling over us.
Then I gasped as the realization hit me. “If your sister is Sarah’s birth mother, that means—”
“You’re my uncle,” a voice cut through.
Blake and I snapped our eyes toward the doorway.
Sarah stood there clutching a paper coffee cup in both hands, her green eyes glazing with emotion.
For a split second, Blake looked speechless. Then a disbelieving laugh escaped him. “I… I never really thought about it like that. But I guess I am.”
Sarah shifted awkwardly. “No pressure or anything. I get this is a bit of a surprise. It’s a surprise to me, too. But I spent years wondering where I came from, so if it’s not too painful, would you mind telling me about her sometime? Not right now, but—”
“I’d love to,” he whispered, standing and moving toward her, wrapping her in his embrace.
Watching them hold each other filled me with hope. Despite everything Isaac stole from Blake and everything Josiah stole from Sarah, somehow they still survived.
Managed to find each other.
“Mrs. Kane?” a voice said.
I looked up, worried it was another detective wanting to ask even more questions.
Instead, it was a man in green scrubs.
“I prefer to go by Ms. Summers, if you don’t mind,” I corrected, pulling myself to my feet.
The man gave a quick nod. “Of course. I’m Dr. Sterling. I just finished operating on Mr. Fontaine.”
Every ounce of blood drained from my body, worry and dread colliding inside me.
Blake moved toward me, finding my hand and squeezing it.
“And?” I asked breathlessly, searching Dr. Sterling’s expression for a clue as to whatever he was about to tell me. Compassion. Sympathy. Understanding. But it was calm and professional, giving nothing away.
“The bullet hit Mr. Fontaine’s kidney and nicked part of his liver. With injuries like that, time becomes critical.”
Fear wrapped around my chest, making it impossible to breathe.
“Thankfully, I was able to successfully remove the bullet and repair the damage.”
“So he’s okay?” I whispered, air rushing from my lungs so hard I nearly collapsed.
“I’m cautiously optimistic. The next twenty-four to forty-eight hours are critical. Infection and sepsis are my biggest concerns right now, so we’ll be keeping a very close eye on him and may need to operate again. But for now, he’s stable.”
Stable.
Not dead.
I’d take stable.
“Can I see him?” I asked hopefully.
“The anesthesia hasn’t fully worn off yet,” Dr. Sterling warned. “When it does, he’ll probably be quite disoriented from the pain medication.”
“I don’t care.” My voice cracked. “I just… I need to see his chest rise and fall.”
Something softened in his expression, an understanding of sorts. “Of course. Come with me.”
I followed him out of the waiting room, keeping my head lowered against all the curious stares.
The walk down the maze of hallways felt endless. Every light overhead buzzed too loudly. Every heartbeat thudded against my chest. Every breath of air felt strained.
Finally, the doctor stopped outside a room and opened the door.
The sight of Henry nearly broke me.
He lay motionless in the hospital bed with a thin blanket over him, machines blinking and humming around him. Tubes snaked from his arms, bruises still darkening his face.
He looked so fragile. So…human. Not the formidable man I’d always known him to be.
“I’ll give you some privacy,” Dr. Sterling offered, stepping out of the room and closing the door behind him.
I moved toward the bed on trembling legs, lowering myself into the chair beside him and grabbing his hand.
I brought it up to my mouth and pressed a soft kiss to his skin as I watched his chest rise and fall.
For the first time since I walked into that chapel and saw him restrained and gagged, I finally allowed myself to breathe.