to you? She was afraid to move, afraid something bad would happen? Did you think about that?”
“But why wouldn’t she just come to me? She didn’t need to be afraid of me. I’ve proven myself to her, showed her I’ll always have her back.”
“Sebastian,” he says my name with pity. “Do you really think it is you she is afraid of? It couldn’t possibly be the man who has a collar around her throat and a leash in his hands.”
He's right. I know that. I’m being irrational, but there is a small part of me that thinks she have Stockholm syndrome. What if she is in love with Kendrick? Does my job to save her become that much harder?
For so long, I have dedicated my life to keeping her safe, as safe as I could. Even when I was in prison, I did my best to keep her safe and secure. It was tough, but it paid off knowing people on the outside were willing to get their hands dirty. I did my best to protect her, but I obviously didn’t consider one thing.
Gabriella might not want me at all.
The kitchen door bangs open, and Owen comes in with a girl in his hands. She is soaking wet, pale, and I am not sure if she is alive.
“Holy shit,” Jaxon hurries around the island and pushes her hair out of her face, then freezes.
My foot kicks off the wall, pushing me forward to see what the big deal is. Jaxon’s eyes are wide, and he takes a step back to give me room. I step closer, and my knees give out. I catch myself on the island and shake my head. My entire world comes to a halt. All this time, all this effort, she came to me. She looks so tired, her skin has goose bumps along the surface, and her nipples are in a permanent state of distress against the drenched robe she cloaking her body. Her lips are blue, and her chest isn’t moving.
Not after all this time.
It can’t end like this. This isn’t supposed to be how it ends.
“Give her to me,” I say, holding out my arms for the woman I’ve been searching for far too long.
Owen doesn’t hesitate. He slides her frail, cold, wet body into my hold, and I cradle her to her chest. She is so cold, I start to shiver. “We need to get her down to the infirmary,” I say, staring at her soft, delicate face. God, she looks like a porcelain doll. Her lashes are wet and shadow long spikes over her cheeks. She looks thinner, but she is so goddamn beautiful, my chest hurts.
It fucking hurts to look at her like this.
And she is still wearing that goddamn collar. This one has a lock on it.
“She’s dead,” Owen says. “I tried CPR, Sebastian. I tried, but nothing worked. I’m sorry.”
I ignore him. She isn’t dead. I didn’t spend seven years of my life waiting for her only to bury her. Fuck no, there is a plan. I have a plan. I reach for the pocketknife in my pocket and fling it open. I dig the sharp metal under the collar, careful not to cut her skin, and saw away the damn disgusting thing off her.
“Sebastian—”
“She’s not fucking dead!” I shout at them, tossing the collar to the side. Her neck is bruised; the collar was too tight. “She’s not dead,” I repeat as I lay her on the floor. I tug her robe together, so she isn’t exposed, and I cup the back of her head and carefully place her against the hardwood. “You can’t die, okay? You can’t. We have been through too much to find each other.” The fucking ocean brought her to me. Everyone, everything, the fucking universe knows we belong together, and I’m not going to let Kendrick take that away from me.
I lean my head over her heart and wait.
“I found her a half mile away, on the shore, face-down in the water—”
“We have to make him realize that he has to let go.”
“Will you two shut the fuck up so I can listen? Shut up. Just shut the hell up!” I hold my breath as I listen to her chest, but Owen is right, there is no beat, no small thud, nothing. “No. I fucking refuse.” I open her mouth and give her the kiss of life. Filling her lungs three times before I lay one hand over the other in the