The Secrets We Hide (The Four #2) - Becca Steele Page 0,11

and was sure my voice would remain steady, I spoke. “Who wants to be the first to fill me in?”

Kinslee took a deep breath. “I guess I’ll start, since I got to you first. Not that I know much”—she glared at Caiden before returning her gaze to mine—“since no one would tell me anything. I had a phone call telling me that you’d had an accident, and to come straight to the hospital. I panicked—you’d told me you were going to see the Four, and I thought…” Her voice trailed off as she swallowed hard, visibly trying to compose herself.

“Hey, it’s okay.” I reached out and grabbed her hand. “Who called you?”

“The hospital.”

“So, how did I get there?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. All the hospital would tell me was that you’d been ‘dropped off’—they didn’t know who had brought you there.”

I stared at her, my brow furrowed. “How come they called you, anyway?”

“Your student ID card. I guess they got hold of the university, and I’m listed as your emergency contact.” Leaning closer to me, she lowered her voice a little. “You scared me, with the way you looked. I didn’t know what to do, so I phoned Weston. Then the next thing I know, three of them are at the hospital with me, taking over. They wouldn’t leave you, especially with no one knowing what had happened, if there was still a threat. We couldn’t risk your safety. I stayed with you, too, as much as I could.”

“Thank you,” I whispered, squeezing her hand. Why hadn’t I confided in her sooner? “I owe you an explanation, and maybe I’d better do it before the boys give me their part of the story.” I glanced over at Caiden, and he nodded, once.

“Okay. Well, it all started with my dad…”

I told her the entire story, holding nothing back—why I’d come to Alstone, the reason the Four had been so hostile to me to begin with, and our suspicions about my mother. Throughout it all, Kinslee sat, a stunned expression on her face, her eyes filling with tears as I spoke about my dad, widening as I recounted meeting Petr, and then narrowing in anger as I got to the final part, where I’d stupidly decided to go to the docks alone.

“If you weren’t so bruised still, I’d throttle you for being so careless with your own safety. Seriously, Winter. You’re lucky that nothing worse happened to you.”

“Kins. Not now.” Cass frowned at her, and she sat back in her seat with a huff.

The Four took it in turns to recount their side of the events, glossing over the details of their evening at Alstone Members Club, and concentrating on how they’d received my message when they’d left, and come to find me straight away. I added how I’d driven to the docks and seen the boat and the three figures, and someone had hit me over the head.

When I recounted my time in the basement room, and my experience with my captor, the atmosphere in the room grew strained, to put it mildly. Caiden pulled me onto him and banded his arms around my waist, tension rolling off him in waves. Zayde flicked his knife open and closed, over and over, his jaw clenched, and Weston stood, pacing up and down, his eyes darkening. His expressive face showed everything he was feeling—fury, worry, helplessness—they were all there.

“What we need to know now is, what the fuck is going on at the docks.” Cassius slammed his hand down on the table, making me jump, and my head started pounding again.

“And more importantly, who hurt Winter,” Caiden said in a low voice, close to my ear, speaking through gritted teeth. “Make them fucking pay.”

“I don’t know how we’re going to get those answers. Just add it to the ever-growing pile of questions.” I sighed, rubbing my temples.

“You’ve got me to help, now. If you’ll have me.” Kinslee spoke up. “I don’t know how much I can do, but from everything you’ve told me, I can’t sit back. I need to help. I could always speak to my brother, since he worked at the docks last summer?”

“That’s not a bad idea, y’know.” West flashed her a grin, and she smiled back, pleased.

“How do you feel about looking at gory pictures?” Z suddenly asked me out of nowhere.

“Huh? What do you mean?” I frowned, turning to face him.

“My contact forwarded me a photo of the dead guy we found at the docks. His face is…damaged…”