All Chapters of Stealing the Heart of Mr. Steele: Chapter 311 - Chapter 320

[Atlas]Clark draws our attention to something reflecting the light on the surface of the water. A member of the crew sends down a net and brings it to the surface.The aluminum casing of the item shines brightly in the sunlight and I blink. It takes me a moment to recognize it as my eyes adjust. It's just an empty water bottle. In any other circumstance, I'd just dismiss it as old sea-trash. But as I rotate it in my hands I realize how big a mistake that would be. The logo for Steele Industries is engraved on the side. This water bottle came from this ship, a ship that has not sailed these waters in 25 years. Clark reaches forward and takes the bottle in his hands. His eyes closed, he rotates it, feeling it with his fingertips as he makes his own observations. "Jude threw this overboard. He's going through the water rapidly," His voice is rasping and quiet, sounding like they are coming from far away. "We need to hurry. Cordy is hurt. We are running out of time.We all stand there

[Cordelia]The water is so cold that when my body hits the surface I feel the shock of being dumped into a bucket of ice as my fevered skin dives below the surface. I scream in agony as the salt goes into every blister and cut, but nobody can hear me. I'm already sinking in the water. Nobody saw me fall this time. There was nobody ready to catch me. It's funny that just moments after Jude had saved me from falling over the edge, my family's rescue attempt flings me directly into danger. It was an accident, but an unfortunate one. The wake of the much bigger boat tipped this boat just enough for me to roll out once more, only this time Jude was too busy raising his hands above his head to see that his prisoner was escaping after all. I'd laugh if I wasn't terrified. I don't want to die. Not like this. Not with so much work left to do. My son is still sick and there are dangerous people following my family. Even people we thought were our friends. I just want a moment of peace. The

[Tilly]Clark carried me as far as he could until his knees buckled under my weight. With all of the weight I gained with these babies, I'm almost twice my original pre-pregnancy weight, and even though Clark works hard on his body every day, his strength has its limits. Especially when he's scared, and right now he's terrified. "I should have never convinced you to come with me," the veins in his neck are bulging with strain as he takes a few more stuttering steps forward. "You should be in the hospital. This is no hospital." Lifting a hand to his face I try to soothe his wrinkled brow. My hand leaves a red trail and I try not to show panic at the sight of my blood on his cheek. "The doctor will help us. Don't worry.""Yes, the doctor will make this all better," his smile is tight. "And I'll stay with you the whole time. It's you and me and babies make four.I know he's trying his best to keep his cool, to let me know that I'm loved and that everything will be all right, that our b

[Cordelia]A small cry shatters the sorrow. Clark perks up, his whole body coming to attention. "Madeline," he turns his body away from me, like a flower seeking the sun, towards a small glass bed where two wiggling, swaddled bundles are curled up next to one another, one of them fussing more than the other. He picks her up and begins singing a sorrowful melody, something nonsensical that I'm confident he must be making up on the spot. The little spot of hair I see plastered to the side of her head is ink-black and curly. As soon as he picks up one the other starts to cry and soon he has a little red head in his other hand. "Cassandra, don't be jealous," he sniffles, smiling brightly through his tears for his daughters. "Papa has two arms." He bounces them up and down. I wish I could laugh at the tender scene, but my heart hurts as I look over and see the figure on the bed. She almost looks like she's a sleeping princess. Except that she's impossibly pale as if her skin has been was

[Atlas]"What are you talking about?" I demand. "My mother has been dead for decades, Jude. Keep her name, and her memory, out of your mouth."Doesn't he realize how close he is to becoming a body left on the beach? He's already pushed his luck beyond most of our limits. "Oh, but she's still here. She's everywhere. Her family built this place.""Her family?" I ask but he doesn't respond.Jude is standing on the other side of the room next to a large bookcase that curves along the wall and reaches up several rows to the ceiling. He sets the book he is reading back on the shelf and without looking up grabs another."This system is archaic but complete. I do appreciate the craftsmanship," he continues to look through the collection without looking up. "Keeping notes by hand with this much detail and skill is a dying art.""Why are we here?" I demand. This feels like a dangerous waste of time. "What was so important about this place that you'd drag me out here instead of just helping