In His Keeping (Slow Burn #2)(93)

They held on to one another for a long moment before Ginger’s muffled voice rose. “What did they do to our baby, Gavin? What do they want?”

Gavin ran his hands up and down the length of her spine, trying to offer her comfort when there was none to be had. “I don’t know,” he said in a low voice. “Damn it, I don’t know!”

“How can we protect her when we’re helpless?” Ginger asked, her distress becoming more pronounced.

“We aren’t helpless.”

Gavin and Ginger both whipped around in shock as Ari’s dull, toneless voice reached them. She sounded almost . . . robotic.

“What, baby?” Gavin asked softly, though he’d heard her clearly. He just wasn’t sure what she had meant.

“I’ll bring down the entire house,” she said softly, turning over so she faced her parents willingly for the first time.

Power snapped and sparkled around them, electrifying the very air in the damp cell. Where before the air had always been stuffy, hard to breathe, now it seemed charged, particles shimmering, a breeze suddenly shifting, restless, blowing a chill through as if a window had been opened to allow fresh air in.

The bars began to rattle ominously. The cot shook beneath Ari. The concrete floor trembled beneath their feet. Outside the cell, in neighboring ones, pillows, blankets, even an old, discarded shoe rose into the air, spinning rapidly before slamming against the iron bars caging the small interiors.

Ginger glanced at Gavin, worry and unease dark in her eyes. He knew his expression wasn’t likely any different. Something was very wrong here. In the distance, the sound of breaking glass could be heard, the shattering of a window. The wind whistled down the hallway, howling ominously, like a wind tunnel.

“Gavin!” Ginger whispered, her horrified gaze locked on Ari.

Gavin pulled his gaze from the objects whirling freely through the air and focused on his daughter and immediately saw what concerned Ginger. Blood was seeping from Ari’s nose, dripping onto the worn sheet of the cot.

“Ari, baby,” Ginger said in an aching voice. She hurried over to her daughter and carefully slid onto the edge of the bed, careful not to touch her. “Is that where all the blood came from? Did they make you use your powers?”

But Ari’s eyes were distant. Vacant, as though she were miles away. Here, but not here.

“I’ll kill them all,” Ari said, her eyes coming to life, glowing eerily where before they’d been utterly lifeless. Then she leveled a stare at her parents, for the first time seemingly aware of her surroundings. “And Beau will come,” she said simply.

THIRTY-TWO

AFTER Ari’s cryptic statement, she’d immediately drifted into sleep, her features contorted at first and then finally easing as she slid deeper into rest. Ginger lay beside Ari while Gavin paced the confines of the cell restlessly, like a caged lion.

He wanted to know what the hell had been done to Ari, but she’d been unable to provide answers, and he wasn’t about to push her when she was seemingly so fragile. But then she’d made that chilling vow that he was still turning over in his mind.

She’d sounded, not only determined, but resolved. Confident. Fearless. And that scared him to death. What the hell was she planning to do? And how could he stand by and do nothing? How could he stop her from whatever it was that put that implacable expression on her face? One that told him she would not be swayed from her objective.

He closed his eyes, whispering a prayer to an entity he’d never believed in before Ginger and Ari had entered his life. He truly believed they were a gift from the angels. God. A higher being. It didn’t matter what He was called. Gavin believed—truly believed—when he’d never believed in anything but what he himself had the power to accomplish in his life.

Now he prayed a sincere, fervent prayer for God to watch over and protect his wife and daughter. What happened to him was inconsequential. He’d give his life for the two women he loved so dearly and never hesitate. But he wasn’t willing to allow either of them to do the same for him.

He shook his head at the ridiculous turn of his thoughts. Ari had been insensible. Catatonic. Deeply traumatized. He doubted she’d even remember her words when she next awoke. Even as he prayed she’d awaken soon so he could have the answers he so desperately wanted.

Though Ginger was lying on the cot with Ari, she wasn’t asleep. She was as wide-awake as Gavin. Ari had sensed her mother’s presence even at rest and had snuggled closer to her as she’d settled more firmly into the grasp of sleep. Healing sleep, Gavin hoped.

Ginger ran her fingers through Ari’s long hair, something Ari had always enjoyed from an early age. She loved having her hair played with, her head rubbed. It had often comforted her when she’d wake crying in the night. Or when she wasn’t feeling well.

“Mama?”

Ari’s soft voice reached Gavin’s ears and he whipped around, his gaze immediately seeking his daughter. Her back was still to him. Ginger had crawled between Ari and the wall of the cell so she could lie down with her daughter without disturbing her rest.

“Yes, darling,” Ginger said quietly, in deference to Ari’s earlier sound sensitivity.

“Where’s Dad?” Ari whispered back. “Is he here?”

Gavin started to respond, and he was just about to rush over so he could see her for himself and vice versa, but Ari’s next words stopped him cold.