Liam glanced at Tristan, but Austin dug his heels into the merman’s thighs, keeping him in place.
“And?” Austin prompted. But he knew from Liam’s expression, bland as it always was, that it wasn’t good. “Was Connor in the files too?”
“No, he wasn’t.”
“Are you sure? Laurence said I had someone watching the house. Wilbur might have…” Austin read Liam’s eyes. “That was just you?”
Liam awkwardly cleared his throat. “I was checking whether you were there.”
“Their territory is the last place on earth I would try to take refuge in,” Austin replied dryly.
“Yes, I know. But you’d warn Connor if you thought he was in danger.”
Austin supposed that was true. “Alright. What was in the files of me?”
“Some of the experiments from when you were ten,” Liam said. “It isn’t as bad as we thought. There was no mention of his kind in any of the files.” He twitched a finger towards Tristan, though given the tail Austin had been sporting yesterday, it would have made sense to say “your” kind. “Wilbur’s son, Bradley, happened to be in Miami when the changeover happened. Apparently, he’d got curious just before the files were to be destroyed and picked up a random folder. In it was…”
“Yes?”
Liam looked down at his hands. They were folded in his lap, knuckles going white. “It was one of the healing experiments.”
Austin’s skin flashed hot in remembered places. Along his outer thighs in horizontal strips. A vertical slit in his left thumb. A puncture into his knee, a careful snip of the ligament. The intermediate phalanx of his right middle finger.
“I’ve seen the file now too. There were pictures, detailed accounts of the wounds being inflicted, the immediate response, the—”
Tristan’s voice cut through the list. “Enough.”
Austin’s gaze moved slowly back to Tristan, and he was surprised to see the blanket set aside and the merman rubbinghis leg. Though Austin watched Tristan’s hand move over his skin, he couldn’t feel it at all.
“I need to hear this.”
“You know the details already,” Tristan replied. “That can be skipped.”
Austin stared at the hands on his skin, now carefully working the muscles of his calf. He watched mindlessly and began to feel them once more. “I suppose that’s true.” Austin looked back at Liam. “So he saw that file and read the rest.”
“From Bradley’s account, he saw that file and thought Cessair’s company was attempting to cover up a crime to protect his name. He boxed everything up and contacted his dad, and the two of them decided the best course of action was to find you personally. It was bad timing that they showed up at the cottage while I was out.”
“What do they want?”
“They wanted to help you.”
“Help me with what? Cessair’s gone.” Austin accidentally stumbled upon a word that fit Cessair’s current state: gone. It left the possibility of “returned”. Of Cessair one day crawling his way out of the depths and sinking his teeth into Austin.
“Yes, he is. They were under the impression you might still be under duress and felt compelled to act. Tammy has convinced them that isn’t the case. They left the files at the cottage. Bradley left a note for you—I read it, sorry—and he apologised for scaring you.”
Austin’s heart was beating hard. He could only just feel Tristan’s touch on his skin. “I showed him what I could do. There might not have been anything in those files about merfolk, but I—”
“You didn’t,” Liam said. “He fell on the razorfish and sliced up his face and arms. He didn’t see a thing.”
“He was badly hurt?” His actions returned to him. The way he’d commanded the razorfish to help him. The protective, deadly shield they’d formed. Bradley’s cry of pain.
Liam lifted his gaze from his fists. They lost their white tension, blood flow returning.
“He’s fine,” Liam said.
“You just said—”
“Austin,” Liam interrupted, “he’s fine. He got a few stitches, but the cuts are healing well.”
