Page 55 of The Chosen
“I didn’t want you to worry.”
“But I did worry, Henry. Plus, that’s no excuse for keeping me in the dark. I just spent the past ten years of my life married to a man who dictated what I was allowed to know and not know.” My voice trembled despite my best efforts to temper my emotions. “What I was allowed to feel. What I was allowed to think. And tonight… Well, it made me feel all that again.”
“I was just trying to protect you.”
“How did that work out for you?” I gestured to his bruise-riddled body.
“You’re safe. That’s the important thing.”
“But you weren’t, Henry. You weren’t safe. Do you want to know what I did over the past few hours? I imagined your body floating in Biscayne Bay. Or dismembered in some shipping container. Or being ripped apart by fucking alligators.”
My voice echoed against the rafters.
So much for saving this conversation for another day.
“I… I’m sorry,” Henry said, his voice cutting through the silence. “I guess… I’m not used to having people worry about me.”
“Well, get used to it. Because I do worry about you,” I retorted. “And tonight?”
My throat tightened as the hours I spent overwhelmed me all at once. The ticking clock. The dark house. The way every passing car made my heart stop.
“I don’t ever want to feel that again,” I managed to squeak out.
He reached for me and brushed his knuckles against my cheek. I didn’t care that they were bruised and bloodied. They were rough and warm and everything I worried I’d never feel again.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t think it would?—”
“You can stop there,” I interjected, but I didn’t pull away from his touch. I couldn’t. Not after spending hours convinced I’d never see him again. “You didn’t think.”
He pushed out a long sigh as he dropped his hold on me, his eyes fluttering closed.
“It was the only option if I wanted to know if what Victor said is true. If Sarah might still be alive.”
I wet one of the washcloths and brought it up to his face, cleaning away some of the dried blood on his face. “Was he telling the truth?”
He opened his eyes, briefly meeting my gaze. “It appears so.”
I had a feeling he was, but hearing the confirmation hit me with a strange combination of relief and fear.
“Do you know where she is?”
“No. According to Mikhail, their role was only in acquisition and transportation. Victor would give them information about the girl. The Bratva was responsible for acquiring and delivering to him. But he sold some of them and the Bratva would transport to Victor’s buyer.”
I arched a brow. “Who?”
He released a frustrated breath. “Only Victor knows. He’s the one who handled all the communication.”
My shoulders fell. “And I killed him.”
“Hey.” He straightened, clutching my face and forcing my eyes to meet his. “You did what you had to. If you didn’t kill Victor, he could have killed you. And the idea of not having you in my life?” His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down in a hard swallow, his voice wavering. “I can’t stomach it, Ariana.”
“But now you’re back to square one again.”
“Not necessarily,” he replied, sinking back into the couch once more, obviously unable to sit up for longer than a few seconds at a time.
“What makes you say that?” I grabbed a bandage and leaned closer, securing it over his eyebrow. Luckily, none of his scars were deep enough to require stitches. But he’d definitely have some bruises to show for the night he spent with the Bratva.
“I now know about Victor’s connection with the Bratva. Know more about how his operation worked. Know Victor sold Sarah to this buyer. And sold you, too.”
