Chapter 46 Killian
She woke up slowly.
Her eyes fluttered open, then closed again.
I was sitting in the chair across from the bed. Watching her. I'd been there for hours. She was asleep when I got to the room she had booked. Cartier had told me everything that happened.
"I told Cartier I didn't want to talk to you right now," she said, her voice raspy.
I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. "You're angry I didn't kill them?" Somewhere in the back of my mind, I always knew she was waiting to see if I'd cross that line for her. "Or you're angry I didn't let you kill them? You blame me for not letting you ruin your life tonight?"
She sat up slowly, the sheet falling to her waist. "No. I didn't want you to kill them, and I wasn't going to ruin my already fucked-up life. Killing them would have improved it. It would have been a public service."
"Okay, Chloe," I said softly, keeping my voice level even though my heart was hammering against my ribs.
"Cartier went back to the beach house less than two hours after you left," I said, watching her intently. "But when he got there, the door was still hanging off the hinges, and the house was empty. No Arthur. No Ava. No Olivia."
I paused, waiting for a reaction. Nothing.
"Everything was still there, though, Chloe. Their phones were on the charger. Arthur's wallet. Their shoes. The TV was playing. A bloody rag was right outside the door."
"Oh," she said. Just oh.
I pulled her phone from my pocket and threw it on the bed. I had called the number she'd texted. A man answered, and then when I spoke, he hung up. My calls went straight to voicemail after that.
She looked at the phone, then back at me. Her expression didn't change.
I stood up and walked to the edge of the bed. "What did you discuss at the pier, Chloe? And with whom?"
She shrugged.
"Chloe," I pressed, my voice dropping to a warning growl. "Talk to me. What did you do?"
She shook her head, her gaze fixed on the wall behind me. She wasn't the girl who needed me to protect her anymore.
The silence stretched until it was deafening. I could feel her pulling away. I realized then that if I pushed her for the truth, I might lose her forever.
"Okay," I whispered, reaching out to take the phone back. The word tasted like surrender. "I won't ask anymore."
In that moment, I resigned myself to never knowing.