Terry went out two hours ago to help find her. I wanted to go, but he convinced me to stay and wait. Tricked me really. I passed out, and when I came to, he was gone.
Because I lied. Sebastian’s men didn’t miss. The bullet got lodged in my left arm and Terry had to dig it out and stitch me up with nothing but a sewing kit and a bottle of brandy as disinfectant.
I didn’t want to leave and have Serena show up at an empty house. But that shouldn’t have mattered. I should have gone. Serena has been to hell and back in the last couple of hours, and it’s completely broken the unbreakable woman.
I sit her on the bed then dig through the dresser for clothes. I drop them on the bed by her then go search for the first aid kit Terry used not even two hours ago. I drench a towel in warm water and return to find her wearing the dry shirt, but she can’t get the pants over her frozen legs. That’s when I realize how bad they are. They’re nearly purple and covered in blood from her knees to her toes.
I curse. We should have gotten off the boat at the same time. I never should have left her to wander around alone, especially after such a traumatic ordeal.
“Let me help.” I kneel below her, wrapping the warm towel around her legs. She hisses, and a shiver wracks through herbody. “I’m so sorry, Serena.”
She doesn’t speak. I’m not sure if she can, the way her mouth is chattering, and her body is convulsing… she’s got to be nearly hypothermic. I need to get her fixed up quickly. She groans as I remove the towel and dab around to make sure there aren’t any open wounds. Only a few are deep, but I apply antiseptic and bandage them up. Then I slip her feet into the sweatpants and slide them up to her hips. I add a pair of socks next. With each layer, she seems to shiver a little less. But she’s far from warm.
“Get in the bed,” I say, helping her stand. I lift the blankets for her to climb under. Once she’s settled, I pour a mug of tea from the kettle I had warming for the last hour and a half on the stove.
“Here.” I help her sit and hold the tea. Her frozen purple lips struggle to latch onto the cup, but she takes a sip, then another. When she’s done, I leave the cup on the nightstand and get in the bed beside her.
I scoot my body next to her, tangling our legs and wrapping my arm around her stomach.
“W-what are y-you doing?” she stutters.
“You were on my side. I was jealous.” I press a kiss to her shoulder.
“You can only stay for a m-minute. I’m still m-mad at you.”
“You can be mad at me forever. But I need you to tell me.”
“Tell you w-what?” With great effort, she turns in my arms, and I press her body closer. She looks at me, and in the dusk, I see the pure torture in her eyes.
“Your secrets, Seraphina.”
Chapter 25
Serena
Seraphina.My old name falling off his lips brings up all kinds of uncomfortable feelings. That’s not me anymore. It never will be. The pain, the shock, the betrayal, the grief all rear up, warring for my soul.
“No.” I shake my head, the room seeming to close in around me. He doesn’t remember. He can’t.
“It took me a while to piece it together. I must say, you did well. I didn’t even recognize you,” Liam says. A shiver wracks my body, and Liam presses me closer into his warmth, tucking the blankets tighter around me.
“I d-don’t know what you’re talking about.” I struggle under the weight of his look. If he knows, that means he remembers. And I don’t want him to remember me, remember our shared past. Because then I’ll have to explain what happened afterward.
“Your face structure is different. Your lips are fuller. There are only two reasons people get plastic surgery.” His obnoxiously blue eyes bore into mine, and I don’t like what they promise. “To look prettier, or to hide. You were gorgeous before, so I know it’s the second.” He brings a hand to my cheek, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “When were you going to tell me?” he whispers. His hold on me loosens, becoming something gentle and heartbreaking.
“Never,” I say, honestly. The warmth of the covers and Liam’s body have taken the edge off the cold, but a new fear settles into my veins. Of course, he figured it out. “When did you know?”
“Just after I kidnapped you. I wasn’t sure, until I saw the scar in your hairline.” He presses a soft kiss to that very spot.
I don’t say anything. I can’t. There’s too much. I tried long ago to forget about the scar he helped put there fifteen years ago. He had convinced me to sneak onto a neighbor’s property to see the horses, but I misjudged the barbed-wired fence. It had been a deep cut, but I had been too afraid to show my grandmother. She hated when I became a nuisance to her. She also hated Liam and said he was a terrible influence on me. So, a young Liam helped me superglue it every day for nearly that entire summer until it finally healed.
Liam leans toward me, but my eyes have become blurry, and I can’t make out his face.
He cups my cheek. “Who did this to you? Who made you fear? Who made you hide?”
“It was…” I stutter. My lips tremble, and by some miracle, I say the words I’ve avoided for years. “Sebastian Sanchez.”
“Who is he?” Liam asks, his eyes instantly harder.
