Kill Switch by Penelope Douglas

I just never seemed to come out of anything with him
unscathed, did I? In body or in mind.
Rising from the bed, I left my room, the house still silent
as I walked down the stairs and into the ballroom. I fell asleep
so early I missed dinner last night, and I needed some coffee,
but I needed to stretch. I started my playlist and walked over to
the wall, moving the curtain aside and lifting the first window
to breathe in some fresh air.
But as I did, I stopped, hearing the rush of water outside.
A lot of water, and not like rain.
I thought he got rid of the fountain.
I couldn’t hear the workers anymore—no trucks or
machinery. Did they bust a pipe or something? What was that
sound?
Leaving the ballroom, I walked toward the front door,
punching in the code Crane had given me and disarming the
house.
I opened the door, the sound of water filling the air as I
stepped outside.
Inching across the driveway in my bare feet, I held out my
hands and went slow, careful for any equipment or cars.
But as I walked, I felt the draft and spray of what felt like
waterfalls, and then suddenly, the pavement changed to
something else under my toes, and I stopped. Dipping my foot
out a little more, I felt water spill onto my feet and a granite
floor underneath—no bowl or pool where the fountain was
collecting. Simply a massive slab of ground. Maybe with
drains?
I stepped in, my heart pounding as I held out my fingers,
grazing the towers of water around me.
My mouth went dry, trying to puzzle this together. What
was this?
I stepped on a spout, the water spraying everywhere and
splashing me, and I sucked in a breath, getting a little wet.