The guest room was nicer than anywhere I'd ever lived. Huge bed with soft white sheets, private bathroom with a shower that had multiple settings, even a small sitting area with a view out over the water. Nina had brought me clothes, basic stuff but clean and in my size, and told me to rest as long as I needed.
I stood under the hot shower until my skin turned red, scrubbing away the smoke and lake water and fear that had soaked into me. The mirror showed me what I already knew, I looked like hell.
Dark circles under my green eyes, cheekbones too sharp from missed meals, hair hanging limp and lifeless past my shoulders. And the scars, always the scars, mapping out years of abuse in raised white lines across my back and ribs.
I dressed in the clothes Nina had left, black leggings and an oversized gray sweater, and tried to figure out what to do next. The smart thing would be to stay in this room, keep my head down, don't draw attention. But my mind kept circling back to the man who'd found me.
I didn't even know his name. But I knew power when I saw it, and he wore it like other people wore clothes. The way everyone had responded to his orders, the immediate obedience, the careful respect, it all pointed to someone dangerous. Someone I should be terrified of.
And I was terrified. But underneath the terror was something else, something I didn't want to examine too closely. The way he'd looked at me, like I was a puzzle he needed to solve, like I mattered somehow. No one had looked at me like that in years.
A knock on the door made me jump. "Helen? It's Nina. Can I come in?"
I opened the door and Nina entered carrying a tray of food. Soup, bread, some fruit, nothing fancy but it smelled amazing and my stomach immediately reminded me that I hadn't eaten in way too long.
"Thought you might be hungry," Nina said, setting the tray on the small table. "How are you feeling?"
"Better," I said, which was true physically even if mentally I was still a mess. "Thank you for, for all this."
Nina smiled, and it seemed genuine. "Of course. Listen, I know you must be confused about what's happening. Do you want to talk about it?"
I sat down and started eating, trying to pace myself even though I wanted to inhale everything on the tray. "I don't even know where to start. Who, who was that man? The one who gave the orders?"
Nina's expression became more guarded. "That's Tillman Kin. He owns this yacht and a lot more besides. He's, well, he's someone you don't want to cross."
The name meant nothing to me, but the way Nina said it told me everything I needed to know. Tillman Kin was dangerous, probably the most dangerous person I'd ever been around, and for some reason he'd decided to keep me alive.
"Why did he bring me here?" I asked.
Nina hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "I think he's trying to figure that out himself. The Westside situation is complicated, and you showing up in the middle of it raised questions. But Helen, I need you to understand something. Tillman doesn't do anything without a reason, and if he's keeping you here, it's because you're useful to him somehow."
The words should have scared me more than they did, but I was too tired to sustain that level of fear. "What happened to the Westside? Was it him? Did he order the attack?"
"That's not really my place to say," Nina said carefully. "But yeah, Tillman was involved in cleaning out Damien Cross's operation. The man was dirty, Helen, involved in things that couldn't be allowed to continue."
I thought about Damien, about all the times he'd hurt me, all the ways he'd made my life hell. A tiny, dark part of me was glad he'd lost everything, even if it meant I'd lost what little I had too.
"So what happens to me now?" I asked.
"For now, you stay here and recover. Tillman will decide what comes next." Nina stood up, then paused at the door. "Helen, I know you're scared, and you probably should be. But I've worked for Tillman for five years, and I've never seen him look at anyone the way he looked at you. Whatever happens, I don't think he's going to hurt you."
She left me alone with that thought, and I didn't know whether to be comforted or more terrified.
I must have fallen asleep because when I woke up it was dark outside and the yacht was moving, engines humming beneath me. I got up and went to the window, seeing nothing but black water and distant lights that might have been the shore.
My door opened without warning, and I spun around to find Tillman Kin standing there, filling the doorway with his presence. He'd changed clothes, now wearing dark pants and a black button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, showing forearms corded with muscle.
"You should knock," I said before I could stop myself, then immediately wanted to take it back. Don't provoke the dangerous man, that was survival one-oh-one.
But Tillman just raised an eyebrow. "This is my yacht. I don't knock."
He stepped inside and closed the door, and suddenly the room felt much smaller. I backed up until I hit the wall, my heart racing as he approached with slow, deliberate steps.
"Don't," I managed to say, hating how weak my voice sounded.
He stopped a few feet away, studying me with those unreadable blue eyes. "Don't what?"
"Don't hurt me." The words came out as barely a whisper.
Something flickered across his face, gone too fast to identify. "I'm not going to hurt you, Helen."
"Then what do you want?" I pressed myself harder against the wall, trying to disappear into it.
"That's what I'm trying to figure out." He moved closer, and I could smell that scent again, sandalwood and something uniquely him. "You were in Damien Cross's territory. What was your relationship to him?"
The question caught me off guard. "He, he was my stepfather. After my mom died."
"Your stepfather," Tillman repeated, his eyes sharpening. "And how did he treat you?"
I didn't answer, couldn't answer, but apparently my silence told him everything he needed to know. His jaw clenched and his hands curled into fists at his sides.
"Show me," he said.
"What?"
"Show me what he did to you." It wasn't a request.
My hands shook as I slowly turned around and lifted the back of my sweater. I heard Tillman's sharp intake of breath as he saw the scars, the raised welts and old burn marks that covered my back and shoulders.
"He used a belt mostly," I heard myself saying, my voice distant like I was talking about someone else. "Sometimes other things. Silver-plated stuff that would burn. He liked watching me try not to scream."
Tillman's hand touched my back, so gently I barely felt it, tracing one of the longer scars. The contact sent electricity through my skin, making me gasp.
"Who else?" His voice was rough, barely controlled.
"His son, sometimes. And Sophia, his daughter, she had her own ways of making me hurt." I pulled my sweater back down and turned to face him. "But it doesn't matter anymore. They're probably all dead now, right? From your attack?"
"Damien's alive," Tillman said. "For now. His daughter too. But after what I've seen, that might not last long."
The cold promise in his words should have scared me, but instead I felt something that might have been relief. Someone was angry on my behalf, someone was ready to make them pay, and that was more than anyone had ever done for me.
"Why do you care?" I asked. "You don't know me. I'm nobody."
Tillman's expression was unreadable, but his eyes, his eyes were burning with something intense. "You're not nobody, Helen. And as for why I care," he reached out and cupped my face with one large hand, his thumb brushing across my cheekbone, "I'm still trying to figure that out myself."
The contact between us was electric, sending sparks through every nerve ending. I should pull away, should maintain distance, but my body wouldn't respond to what my brain was telling it.
"We're heading back to the city," Tillman said, dropping his hand but not stepping back. "To my compound. You'll stay there while I sort out the situation with the Westside territory. And Helen," his eyes locked onto mine with laser focus, "you're under my protection now. No one will hurt you again. Do you understand?"
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
"Good." He turned toward the door, then paused. "Get some rest. Tomorrow's going to be a long day."
He left, and I stood there in the dark, my face still tingling where he'd touched me, trying to understand what was happening. I was supposed to be afraid of Tillman Kin, everyone was afraid of him, but all I felt was a confusing mix of terror and safety that didn't make any sense at all.
I went back to bed but I knew I wouldn't sleep, not with my mind racing and my skin still remembering the feel of his hand against my face.
What had I gotten myself into?