Till Death(54)

My heart did a little tap dance.

Cole got closer and lowered his head, brushing his lips along my forehead. I closed my eyes at the sweet gesture. “Terrified.”

My brows snapped together. “What?”

“I was scared as hell when Derek called and said you were in the hospital,” he explained, pulling back just enough that I could see his face. “Even when he said you were going to be okay, even after he explained what happened, still terrified. Was the whole way here.”

“Cole . . .”

“Had to see for myself that you were okay.” His thumb made another swipe, this time below my lip, sending a shiver down my spine. “Don’t like seeing you here.”

“Don’t like being here,” I admitted, finishing off my water.

His eyes searched mine as he took the empty cup and placed it on the little tray by the bed. “Guess it’s a good thing I didn’t see you in here last time.”

Last time I’d looked a mess. Blackened eyes. Shattered jaw. Bruises in places I didn’t even know could bruise. And then there were the bandages over my stomach and chest.

Cole picked up my hand, threading his fingers through mine. The hospital bracelet dangled. “Derek told me what went down.”

A cold draft moved through me. “Did he find anything out?”

His lashes lowered, and a moment passed before he said, “How about we talk about this tomorrow. It’s late. You need your rest—”

“He found something, didn’t he?” My fingers tightened around his. “I want to know.”

A muscle flickered along his jaw, and for a moment, I thought he wasn’t going to answer. “He checked out the inn twice. Came back when your mom returned just to make sure nothing was taken. Your mom didn’t find anything missing.”

Not that I expected anyone would.

“When he went there the first time,” he continued, “he checked out the old entrance to the tunnel. The bricks were down.”

I sucked in air. “Really?”

He nodded. “The thing is, he doesn’t know if the bricks came down naturally or not. Your dad put them up there, right?”

“Yeah. It was a long time ago.”

“Could’ve fallen down or they could’ve been brought down, and no one knows how long they’ve been like that. Your mother said it’s been years since anyone has been inside the mausoleum.” He turned my hand in his and moved his thumb along the center of my palm.

I had a feeling there was more. “But?”

Thick lashes lifted and his eyes met mine. “But the doorway that led to the door from inside the cellar was open.”

“Oh God.” I turned my head, thoughts racing. “I mean, the door down there could’ve been open for a while, but . . . someone could’ve come into the inn through the tunnel and gone back out. The question is, why would someone go through all that trouble? Most of the time, they could come right in through the front door.”

His thumb kept moving along my hand. “Because they don’t want to be seen. Someone goes to that trouble when they don’t want to risk it.”

I pressed my lips together. “If you know anything about the history of the inn, you know about that tunnel.” I thought about the mayor, the only person on my not very helpful list of those who possibly weren’t thrilled about my return, but why would he be in the inn?

Why would anyone be in the inn?

My gaze lifted to Cole, and I found him watching me carefully. For some horrible reason, I thought of my time with the Groom and I knew if I hadn’t shut Cole out, he would’ve been sitting right where he was now ten years ago. The rarest thing happened in that moment. For the first time, I wanted to talk about what happened. He continued to hold my gaze, and the words sort of tumbled out.

“I didn’t think I was going to survive, that I would die in the windowless bedroom,” I whispered, and understanding flared in his eyes. “I wanted to die so many times, and I know that sounds weak, but I couldn’t . . . the things he did. And he saw nothing wrong with it. He was in search of the perfect bride.” Closing my eyes, I turned my chin to the ceiling. “That’s what he wanted—for his brides to want to be with him, to enjoy it. I guess you already know all of that. I heard some of the details were in the papers, but . . . he was like two different people. One minute he was almost kind. He was sick and twisted in the head, so freaking disturbed, but then, when he got into these moods, it was like a different man, one that thrived on pain and hurting others. Those moments were the worst.”

Cole said nothing, but every part of him was focused. His thumb had stilled, but he held my hand tight. The silence allowed me to keep talking.

“He told me once, after I . . . I made him happy,” I said, shuddering, “why the other brides had displeased him. They’d all fought back. So did I. It wasn’t because of that. He insisted that he could’ve trained them, would train me to be obedient.” I spat the last word out. “But it was normal things, you know? One wasn’t a real blonde. She dyed her hair, and for that, she wasn’t perfect enough. Another had told him that she couldn’t have children. I don’t even know if that was true or not, but he ended her life because of it. There was another who . . . who got too thin for his tastes. Too thin because she wouldn’t eat her food.” I swallowed hard before continuing. “He killed one of them because she cried too much. As if he weren’t the reason why she was crying.” Revulsion twisted my stomach. “The one before me, he killed her because he decided suddenly that she was too old. He had to have known her age before, because he stalked them—us. It was like no matter who he picked, they would never be good enough. He’d find some flaw. Something. And that would be it.”