Ruin (Rhodes #1) by Rina Kent

                             Is he dead?

                             He can’t be dead. He... can’t.

                             “Aaron!” My strangled shout pierces my ears, but I call his name over and over, as if the sheer force of my scream can bring him back to life. I bang my palms on the ice cold glass. I hit it, hard until my hands sting. The damn thing doesn’t break. Nor does Aaron show any sign of life.

                             Salt saturates my mouth. I choke on my now-hoarse shouts. My legs buckle, I slip to the ground, pulling my knees to my chin. Every breath I take digs nails into my ribcage. Invisible hands reach to squeeze my heart.

                             Aaron’s dead.

                             My kidnapper’s dead. I’m free. This is the part where I should jump from joy. Yet, more raw sobs escape my lips. My body gets swallowed in an intense storm, drowning in the loss of oxygen. I hug my waist and stroke my arm. This is way worse than my panic attacks.

                             This isn’t the freedom I want. I was supposed to talk with Aaron, not witness his blood-stained corpse.

                             Someone wake me up from this nightmare.

                             Time passes and I sit there until my limbs sour, too scared to look from the window and realise this could be a reality, not a nightmare.

                             A finger taps on my knee, my heart bumps a violent stream of blood as if resurrected. Am I being awoken now?

                             I crane my head up. My stomach sinks at the face that greets me. The hair and eyes are similar, but he’s not Aaron.

                             Tristan stares at me, head tilted to the side, brows furrowed. “Who are you?”

                             “Aaron... help him.” Is that hoarse whisper mine?

                             He studies me, the lines of his face undecipherable. “I asked you a question, I expect an answer.”

                             “Help him first, then I’ll tell you.” My voice rises. Bastard. Isn’t he supposed to help his brother? Unless... Aaron’s really dead. I lock eyes with Tristan, and murmur, “Please.”

                             His pointy gaze pierces me as if attempting to dissect my soul. “He’s undergoing surgery. Now tell me who are you and how do you know Aaron.”

                             My lungs contract, receiving the oxygen they were denied.

                             He’s alive. Oh God, he’s alive.

                             Energy kicks into my limbs, I jump to my feet, and blurt. “Where is he? Can I see him?”

                             Tristan’s expression darkens. His voice comes out in a similar harsh lordliness as Aaron’s. “Until you tell me who you are and what the hell are you doing in Aaron’s quarters, there is no going anywhere for you. I could change my mind if you give me what I want.”

                             “Fine! I’m Mae Wilson. Aaron brought me here weeks ago.” I inch closer to him. “Now, take me to him.”

                             Tristan stands there, unmoving, as if he didn’t hear a word I said. Studying me seems a better option than going to his brother. After a few moments, and without breaking eye contact, he calls. “Xan. Kane.”