Ocean Kills (Ocean Breeze) (40 page)

She waved her arms, spouting more Afrikaans, before finally seething, “You didn’t tell me!” The sheer hatred in her eyes was a knife to my soul.

I let out a noise of panic. The woman in front of me wasn’t Ocean.

She blinked and wrapped her hands in her hair, fighting whatever was possessing her.

I rushed to talk, to distract her from whatever she battled. “Kim only just told me. I asked the KCIA to find him for you. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you getting hurt. I wanted to protect you, Ocean. You have to believe me.”

Her face contorted and body convulsed as she tugged harder on her hair. Small mutterings escaped her mouth as she fought.

I was so helpless. “Ocean. Please—”

Slowly, the shadows diminished slightly from her features. She took a shaky step in my direction. The strain of everything pounded my body. I opened my arms to welcome her. She stepped into my embrace, moaning, “Callan. I’m… I’m scared. There’s something inside me. It—”

Just when I thought she had returned to me, the shadows returned and her eyes glowed black with death. I grunted as one of her fists connected with my spleen.

“Ocean. Stop!” I knew it wasn’t her throwing the punch, but it hurt to think she’d inflict harm on me. Touching her was like touching a stranger. She writhed in my grip, moaning even as she swung again. “Callan…” Her voice was terrified. “I don’t mean to. Help.”

Not knowing what else to do, I kissed her. Hard.

She sucked in a breath and a whoosh of tension left her body. She had tears in her eyes as I pulled away. Trying to distract her from what happened, I asked, “How are we here? What are we doing in Adrian Mathieu’s house? Did you do that?”

Her gaze turned inward, fighting herself again. Crap what was she going through inside?

“This isn’t my doing.
You
did this,” she hissed. “I didn’t know where he lived. You brought us here. You don't know what you've done.” Her voice was evil, not the woman I knew.

My stomach twisted. I caressed her cheek. “You’re right, this is my fault. But I wouldn’t have told you where he lived until Adrian was in custody. I wanted to protect you, Ocean. I wanted to find the bastard and make sure he’d rot in prison. I didn't want you to be dragged through the court system, reliving your nightmare. I didn’t want you to be in danger if you went to kill him.” I dropped my voice, hoping that she’d come back. “I didn’t want you to be hurt any more than you already are.”

Ocean shut down completely. Shutters clanked closed and she pushed me away. “That wasn’t your call to make. We’re through.” She retreated, each step killing my hope. “Stay away from me.”

I was so messed up with what happened, I didn’t know if it was Ocean speaking, or whatever festered inside her.

My body buckled under pressure at the thought of never seeing her again. She couldn't be serious. “Ocean, fuck. Don't do this.” I swallowed hard. “Don't hate me. I’d do anything for you. I—” The words
I love you
lined my tongue, begging to be said. But I couldn't do it. I didn’t want to say it like this. Here—with all this fucked-upness around us.  

Adrian Mathieu coughed. “Are you two just about done? I feel like I'm watching a fucking soap opera over here. Get the eff out of my house!”

Ocean's dead eyes shot to his. “Your name is Adrian Mathieu and a life in prison is twenty times too good for what you deserve. You deserve to rot in hell, you low-life stinking bastard.”

Adrian gulped, looking between Ocean and me. “Sorry, doll, you got the wrong guy. Never seen you before. And I don't appreciate being threatened in my own home. I suggest you leave before I scream bloody murder and get the apartment security guard in here.”

Ocean growled; it echoed in the dirty room.

I grabbed her, wrapping my arms around her. “Let's go. Leave it alone. I'll call Kim to arrest the bastard. Come on, let's return to Bali.” I didn’t want her to disappear further into the hole sucking her dry. I needed to get her on neutral ground.
Shit, I wish Maurice was here to help me with her.
I kissed her cheek. “Please, Ocean.”

She wrenched out of my arms. “You have no right to touch me, Bliss.” Spinning to face Adrian, she clenched her fists until her knuckles turned white. “You're one of the bastards who stole my family. You mutilated my brother, mother, and father. You killed my dog.”

She took a shuddering breath, her whole body trembling. “You raped me, you motherfucker, and you don't even remember me!”

“Ocean!” I reached for her, but she slapped my hand away. A gust of power wrenched my stomach and she charged. Adrian stumbled backward, tripping in the doorway.

Her hand latched onto an empty whiskey bottle on the dresser by the door. I saw what she was going to do.
Shit!
“Ocean!”

She ignored me. Adrian scooted on his backside up the dark corridor. Ocean stalked toward him, raising the bottle above her head. Her hair was tangled and wild; she was savage in that moment. It killed me to admit, but I couldn’t distinguish her from other crazy murderers I’d locked up.

“Hey, now. I didn't do those things. I'm innocent—been framed I have,” Adrian pleaded, struggling to get to his feet. The sash on his robe tripped him again, and he collapsed to his knees. “Please,” he begged, as Ocean keened a noise which made my stomach twist. It was a cross between a war-scream and sob.

Her hand lashed out and closed around his throat. “You haunted my every minute. You ruined me. You made me what I am. You stole my happiness and gave me a life of revenge. I hate you.
I hate you
!”

I hurried behind her, clutching her waist. “Ocean, stop this. Come back to me. Don’t let the marks win.” I tugged her backward but she wielded around and shoved. I lost my grip, tripping.

Her face was compressed into hatred. She was a complete stranger. “If you feel anything for me, Callan you will
not
intervene.” Her face was ashen, drawn, dead eyes cool and calculating.

I held up my hands. Shit, she wasn't here. Her mind was consumed with whatever lurked inside. Some resemblance of the Ocean I knew was in there, but she was frantic, most likely suffering like the eight-year-old she’d been. She needed to do this—put her past behind her. How could I stop her? It wasn't my place.

Nodding, I whispered, “I won't stop you. I understand.”

Her head cocked, blinking. A ray of light broke through the shadows before she was consumed again.

Seeing the small spark of the woman I loved made me take a step toward her, unable to at least try and stop her from drowning in more misery. “I know why you need to do this, Ocean, but is it worth it? Think about your marks. Think about what it’ll do to you.”

Ocean's gaze blazed into mine. “I’ll wear the branding of his death with pride. I’ll
embrace
the coldness. I’ll
adore
the emptiness as my family's memory will be avenged.”

That was what I was afraid of. If she killed him, I might never get the real Ocean Breeze back. She chose murder and death over life and love. Even though the realization she might be lost forever brought me to my knees, I couldn’t stop her.

Adrian was back on his feet, walking backward, watching us warily.

It all happened so fast. One moment Ocean was close, the next she flew down the corridor, whiskey bottle held high. Adrenaline fuelled her; she moved with stealth and power. He was a dead man, and there was nothing I could do.

The fraction of a second before she struck, she clipped, “This is for my family. For my childhood. For me.”

I yelled something—I didn't know what, and watched in slow motion as Ocean brought the heavy glass bottle against Adrian's temple in one sharp ferocious move. He slammed into the wall, slithering to a heap, moaning.

My entire body shook. I wanted to stop this madness, but I couldn't intervene. If I did, I doubted Ocean would be gentle. I had to remind myself over and over that the old man at her feet was a rapist and murderer. He deserved this fate. But it was hard. It was sickening to watch. My stomach rolled with nerves. 

Adrian roused and screamed. Ocean raised her arm and struck again. And again. And again. The heavy glass crunched against his skull; blood splattered the flowery wallpaper.

Holy shit, this was horrid. I trembled, forcing myself to stay in place.

Ocean’s face was livid, hate resonating with each hit. Her body was tense and raw.

I breathed hard, my hands aching from being clenched.

When Adrian was nothing more than a smashed face and caved brain, Ocean stood. She kept her back toward me, blood dripping from her fingers. A moment later, she dropped the bottle. It thudded against the carpet.

The next instant, she folded to her knees, wrapping arms around herself. Her back arched, tearing a scream from her throat.

I lunged, skidding to rest beside her. “Ocean. My God what's wrong?” My hand rested on her back; a tingling sensation bit my fingers. Ice cold. Burning hot. Seizing pain. Her marks. She was being branded for her kill.

She couldn't speak as she rocked, keening into her hands. I pulled her into my arms, rocking with her. “It's okay. You're alright. It's over. He's dead. I'll take care of you.”

She sniffed, wiping tears from her cheeks. Her eyes were red with moisture, but at least they weren’t dead anymore. I held the real Ocean, not the possessed one. So it hurt even more when she said, “I won’t let you. You’ll never take care of me. Let go, Callan.”

I shook my head. “No. I’ll help you through it. I’m never letting you go, Ocean. I need to be with you.”

She froze, mouth parted. Her frame tensed in my arms. I cursed as her face fell into shadow again. “Don’t touch me!” She wheeled out of my arms, putting her hands on her knees, panting. “Oh, this is too hard. They’re winning. I can’t do this anymore.” Facing me, she flinched at my expression. “You’re repulsed by me.”

I was hurting for her, distraught that the woman I loved suffered so much. And I hated myself that I couldn’t help. “I’m not repulsed. I just wish I could help.”

Her face crumbled; I tugged her into my arms. “Stay with me. Come on, we need to leave. Let’s go back to Maurice’s.” I needed to get her somewhere safe. To someone who might be able to help her rapid descent into insanity.

Leaning in, I kissed her gently. She allowed my lips to touch hers, before pulling away and standing. “No, I’ve made up my mind. You have no choice in the matter. You’ll let me go, as I’ve already let you go. Goodbye.”

A gust of gravity, accompanied by sickness struck. Crap, she was leaving. “Don't go. Wait!”

I reached for her, but it was too late. With a tug that forced me to bump against the wall, she disappeared. 

At the same moment, the front door clattered open and a fat security guard appeared with a gun. “Stop right there! I've called the police.” His jowls wobbled as he took in the blood-splattered corridor and Adrian’s corpse. Fuck, this wasn’t good.

The guards eyes widened. His gun wavered in his hands. “You're under arrest for the murder of John Smith.”

I wanted to laugh. John Smith? Could Adrian Mathieu not come up with any other alias? I was stuck here with a bloody murder weapon, a corpse, and no way out of this situation.

I got my sick fantasy. I watched Ocean kill a man, and it was nothing more than cold-blooded murder.

And now I would pay for it.

Chapter Thirty-eight: Ocean

I
arrived in Maurice's kitchen. My hands were covered in blood, fingers cramping from holding the slippery whiskey bottle. Black thoughts and murderous whispers still tormented me.
Hey, little bitch. You’re fucked-up—just like the rest of us. What’s the fun in killing only men like me? You should kill fresh, innocent girls… that will get your blood pumping.
The voice sounded exactly like Atsu Bazeer. It seized me with cold panic, but others joined in, they were coaxing, intoxicating. . .
Give in. You know you want to. Join us. Kill for fun. We’ll teach you how.
The words swam in my head—tempting, encouraging me to murder.

And I had. 

Adrian Mathieu.

He was dead.

I killed him.

He’d no longer haunt my dreams or have any power to hurt me. He was a corpse. His future included rotting somewhere.

I should be ecstatic—dancing on clouds—but my soul was nothing but lead, rot, and ice. I wanted to embrace the emptiness. To run from the constant stream of evil taunting my thoughts.

Callan.

I left him there. With a corpse.
He deserved it. He lied to you. You should’ve killed him. Betrayer.

Moaning, I shook my head.
He lied, but he doesn’t deserve what I did to him
.

No, he deserves death. Go back. Finish him.

“Stop it!” My voice was a garbled mess. Sweat dappled my body—the harder I fought, the louder the voices became.

I must’ve won, because suddenly there was nothing but quiet in my head. But it wasn’t a relief, as my own thoughts turned to hell. All I could think of was Callan. The stab of his betrayal… keeping things from me. His lies.
He knew where Adrian was and didn’t tell me. What else did he hide? He lied to me!