Page 25 of Blood that Burns
“She’s alive. She’s... here,” I say absently, my gaze trained on Katina.
She gasps, hands moving to cover her mouth.
“How? When? Does Marina know?” The questions burst from her mouth one after another, and I regret being the bearer of this news. “What should I do?”
“Good God, Katina. Will you slow down?” I rub at my temple, trying to stave off the headache building.
“I need to go,” she says, throwing her hands in the air and heading toward the door.
“Wait,” I call out. “Where do you think you’re going?”
She balks at me. “To get answers. You’re not exactly offering them up.”
Sighing, I give her what she’s asked for. “Marina’s with her now. She’s fine. Give them some space.”
She huffs but appears to heed my advice, getting back to fixing up my room as though I hadn’t just told her Maggie’s alive.
Several minutes of silence go by while she fusses with the duvet and pillows. When she’s done, she turns to stare at me. If I weren’t already well on my way to drunkenness, I’d ask her what she’s staring at, but I don’t. I’m too deep into my feelings of guilt and self-loathing to care.
“Why does Maggie have you holed up in here, drinking yourself into oblivion?”
I huff, taking another swig. “I’m torn, Katina.”
She takes a seat on my bed, making herself comfortable. I frown, but it doesn’t faze her. She sits perfectly quiet, undoubtedly waiting for me to spill my guts.
Well, she’ll be waiting for a long time, because I’m not even sure what has me in this foul mood—the fact that she’s been alive this entire time while I’ve been drowning myself in booze and women, or that once she learns that truth, she’ll resent me for it. Add to that my brother’s involvement and Maggie’s insistence that he saved her. It’s so at odds with the Marc I’ve come to loathe.
She clears her throat and gestures with her hands for me to get on with it.
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a pain in the—”
“Stop stalling and get on with it. I have things to do,” she grates.
I pull a face, hoping it conveys the sentimentfuck off.
“I’m torn between giving her space and ample time to catch up with her sister and throwing her over my shoulder and taking her somewhere to interrogate her.”
Katina’s hand comes to her chest, a sharp, red-tipped fingernail clawing at her clavicle. “Interrogate? Whatever for?”
“She was locked away at Marcellus’s estate.”
Katina chokes, hands flying to her throat. “Marcellus? Oh, this is bad, Law.”
I blow out a breath. “He’s sealed his fate.” I look up into Katina’s worried gaze. “I need to know what happened. Every detail from the time she was with him. For my own sanity, I need to know he truly didn’t hurt her.”
That’s the truth. It might not be why I’m drinking, but it’s the truth nonetheless.
“Has she said he did?” She motions toward the bottle, and I hold it out to her. She takes a swig.
“No. She maintains he was good to her.” I groan. “She was with him for almost a year. What if he has her brainwashed?”
She purses her lips, passing the bottle back to me. “Did you get that sense?”
I shake my head. “No. She seems perfectly fine. Stronger, even.”
She still looks like the Maggie I’ve known for years, but the way she spoke to me, the way she demanded answers... that was new. Never has Magdalena Drake snapped at me.
“Well then, your interrogation can wait. Give the girls time to bond and reconnect. Celebrate the fact she’s alive.”